No I can never go; it is dark beyond my gate;_______
And my mind could not live out there
(Frank Samperi)
Here are insupportables of life, and suns in a
standoff with dust
unleash the crows on them—just two crows!—
The dark wing, as it's mean
and roguish, (snapt
& torn, too, in the same wind and sun)
is upon them
Mohawks compete with locals
for some fear, too
Do they mean to join us, in the parks?
Wind and the suns
mean no harm, not with all the tents & needles
in a row:
not when sex confects a church, & compels a lot
of Love,
Exudation
Electricity
They mock the Abbé who offers donuts, the greying
politico with fairish jaw
Girls happy to lie sprawled in yurts,
food out of a can,
cold
What's it a question of anyways, money, sex, or bodies
without organs?
Nothing's heavy-handed here! they repeat daily—
Look! just
isolated
yurts,
locals,
girls, cold-bitten
