Invoice No. 3: Inking In -
If yon archaic torso says anything —
You must not change your life on my account.
You twelve or fourteen minutes just before
The poem or drawing is consigned to paper
Seem given over to a jurisdictional dispute
Between Apollo and his bête noir Saint John,
With Stomach, their blood-brother, acting
As amicus curiae; or so he states.
These lines could almost as well find themselves
A piano sonata titled " North Carolina. "
Dodecaphonic algorithm, pat.
A general calling of exotic names,
Like the first day of the first grade. . . .
When the appellate compromise subsides,
Ink moves.
Pennies passing through a purse,
In one ear and out again
(One day they'll put your money where your eyes are),
As if vanishing, robust or puny, up a country chimney.
Or falling to sleep or wake,
A destroyer getting underway, all gone.
The black line exiles the rest of the universe
With a sense less of banishment
Than of augmentation nearly nuptial.
It remains banishment, nevertheless,
Beyond the legal clamor of appeal.
All engines back full. Rudder amidships.
A second black line becomes one with the first,
And on.
" A nose, " you say; " an alpha,
An omega. " Or " an octave in the left hand. "
We render honors to the Arizona .
Whatever it is a sign of, the line remains. . . .
One's normal dream of killing many wolves.
You must not change your life on my account.
You twelve or fourteen minutes just before
The poem or drawing is consigned to paper
Seem given over to a jurisdictional dispute
Between Apollo and his bête noir Saint John,
With Stomach, their blood-brother, acting
As amicus curiae; or so he states.
These lines could almost as well find themselves
A piano sonata titled " North Carolina. "
Dodecaphonic algorithm, pat.
A general calling of exotic names,
Like the first day of the first grade. . . .
When the appellate compromise subsides,
Ink moves.
Pennies passing through a purse,
In one ear and out again
(One day they'll put your money where your eyes are),
As if vanishing, robust or puny, up a country chimney.
Or falling to sleep or wake,
A destroyer getting underway, all gone.
The black line exiles the rest of the universe
With a sense less of banishment
Than of augmentation nearly nuptial.
It remains banishment, nevertheless,
Beyond the legal clamor of appeal.
All engines back full. Rudder amidships.
A second black line becomes one with the first,
And on.
" A nose, " you say; " an alpha,
An omega. " Or " an octave in the left hand. "
We render honors to the Arizona .
Whatever it is a sign of, the line remains. . . .
One's normal dream of killing many wolves.
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