In the clamor of chuckles I hear my own voice demanding to know if I'm nut or just plain crazy running alone between the walls of these woods.

In the clamor of chuckles I hear my own voice

demanding to know if I'm nut or just plain crazy

running alone between the walls of these woods,

dirt puddles sucking in my feet making it inconvenient

like getting thrown away which I got

after walking on myself around the block

of an uncle's strange home when I was a child.

A fact plane now I'm still ashamed to admit,

even now when this uncle who was not a geometer

moreover an angel, wise albeit drunk

came to achieve me waiting in a phone booth

he said, Babycakes, a close ain't no parallelogram,

it's a goddamn distance to conquer Same is true

about the heavens right now in the way the sun's

starting up behind the tree unmasking a tiny figure

gone out of nowhere approaching, me veering toward

faint heartys of traffic, and wings overhead beating.

...

Home