Because the whole world’s been corrupted
most of it in barely laughable ways
in the third part of this prescription
after a love vestigial
I will further illuminate
the kind of kayak I have in mind
by performing a 360
in the shank of winter
May Day May Day.
All I have is my attention
bless it
and of course the lost objects
upon which it fastens/moistened
in order to fill me
with themselves.
Driving all day
driving home with my farts
I pull the world up by its roots
and throw it away
but the moon blows it right back in
the other window.
Elsewhere is my eternity
but I’ll settle for the couch.
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