“
Now reading
Mysterium Tremendum
Bess was my gussy friend She always took care. From the friction Or could. a bell is something different. Altogether. Such costly errors Of the mind. Eso and exoterror Skeletons. The pink body Eating its shell. She had pleaded not to pick Up with the underneath Legs and all scrabbling. But the fluorescent tests Allowed for prepreception. Every ghost limb has a war story. But not every war story has a limb. Fifteen thousand candles are Little kittens. It's an exed out eye Thing for this one. Or in the rubble, an Oboe Tuned by the wind. Half of him is impounded In the tree folk Gemeinschaft Half of him is a city. If you call him in the forest You might get the gut side Vertiginous and quiver, Covered in vines and hair To camouflage What's on the inside that counts? What fixed and determinate story Hails from the forest these Fisted halls? Most of him is hanging in the tree you See blinking in the sunlight, such a drip. The rainwaiter tickles the private. Got to get it together. From formal folk Comes the shining.