A Wave
“When men are lovely, why don’t they see it’s in they share common attitudes.” -John Wieners Though I never knew it, as if in a field too long, until you said, I know you weren’t doing this, but in the light, you and the dog appeared as you riding the dog, or some other imposition ruled by you on it, I felt ashamed by how I sometimes spend my time. A buffoon knows how to kiss you and that’s unforgettable news. It takes all this time within us to really get going. I’ll be inside soon, sorry for such a late start.
Make It Up, They’re Alive
And at that moment, the rest of us offer resistance with materials refashioned from our limits- drying the village swamp until it wags away, disappointing some plans or something else. It will likely take weeks before I can grab you like that again. The freakishly warm are popping underfoot. The virtuous growth is now an official looking place: a post office holding its ground. There’s certainly a man there waiting for us to take us inside, who rarely changes his socks, but is reliable enough to watch over the obvious, and fine with it, fine with how it all goes.
Moving Into the Pony Wall
Probably, in your own way, you’ll have no need for this reassurance. To speak is my way of saying, no, saying, I am ready for staying behind awhile longer, growling at the soup you’ve asked me to eat. On the radio, is the radio. The reading of the long billed birds, trust, I suppose, they are never as new as they carry on and promise they are. Liveliness bangs out the winter. You shouldn’t be surprised to hear, we look so crazy when we slowly back away.