8.iii.22
794
3.67
things I can’t get out
of my head
and dance around
as please
so try another tune
swing limb
but still
‘hello’
they rise irregular as clockwork
where I would have the sun
a tedious mock
the carp, snipe, slight
question and hypothesis
a making nothing art
rococo
the convolute
politics to be done
those multiple crises
of which thought consists
the drift!
atom swerve
flicker walls of the cave
stuck like a ghost
with mere fact
all those god’s mind thoughts
whole words
see smoke out of their ears
conduct it
mea culpa
puff and box my own shadow and win
shadow gets up again
just where you’re not thinking
there’s ‘observation with extensive view’
lost in the page of blank
often am
seep in
all kinds of strings
and a heart thrum drum
sometimes the dizzying with spin
there’s what the blood does
round the head too
or just a world goes
procedural business
concerning mire, murk
and I yell down the well
at the one looking up
‘how do things look
from down there?’
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