Why don't you wear madras
My excuses rhymes with yours
Who spilled my first chair clarinet
Sylvia reads books, the room, the world as we know it, she proclaims the hinges between one factor and another, she
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Beach Light
Arizona frames the water she may dream even when surrounded by cacti, some wearing hats. You can see in the sky the flag of the State to the left and clouds and stars billow blinking the season of choice. Every bit within her mind, as if voiced by an insistent whisper floodlighting the requisite pool umbrella that protects her body at leisure as she looks ahead. How bountiful the beach light she imagines warms even sky, the pictures before her eyes living away from traffic and spreadsheets and routine better left where they are awhile as she resurrects.
Ars Poetica 2
Take a scissors to the girdle keeping you pinched. Better still, don't insert yourself into Such unnecessary confines. Spurt lines Onto the page from your center and such Peripheral points of origin Known to be your own. Form something sure Even deliberately ugly By standards bystanders would likely Reject but which transcend. Remember There's no time for anything other than This urgent feed originating from Heaven knows where encapsulated In some seam you redeem by Focusing on the next uncut thing.
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