Prunierie

Prunierie

Birdsong: Joy-in-driving will strip them down.

Birdsong: Ignored like a drunkard's plot of sidewalk, up against a time-enthusiasm which descended berating us. Two spend some time away from it.

Peoria: A Presbyterian bake sale exposed.

Peoria: We are rising to stay fixed, "Peoria Museum of Handcrafts" or not. Stripped of shellac, Philip Jose Farmer yelling stay over there above the floodlights on the black treetrunk.

Birdsong: Either/or a general item.

Liberal arts: No two prop the table to secure Matthew Arnold, he's coming from the movies and judging no one.

Water: A letter not found within zero.

Black Treetrunk: Divorce papers for the universal dread he's forgotten.

Birdsong: The waking Stalinist. We confront it standing here but factually twitching. True stillness of the beach, "I'm stuck with my friends."

Jay Reed: You've never ignored my deathmask. It was outside of my house, in the barn.

Karla: When you ignored her shoes there in Queens.

Science: This is a scientific solution.

Peoria: You were not in that place, Peoria. A Presbyterian bake sale exposed "unlike Mae West."

Mae West: from Zimbawe. Now preaching Peoria in his teens and away from us David O. Selznick contrasted Dinah Washington's husband. Wooden military personnel by the decade, joy-in-driving will strip them down.

Slavish constructivism: We were leaving the country of constructive criticism deserted.

Vaneigem's Peoria: the father of Phaeton the day before. The second thump as the gods play soccer.

Birdsong: Out of nothing, out touching on a thought with feeling, a buttered grub in your shirt!

Wonder at the Peoria Car Show: Marxism is voluntary near the parking lot.

Peoria: Television country, black lithographs on the Zoroastrian courthouse doors. "Everything is different," reads Peter, "including the stubborness of a few Zoroastrians."

Peoria 2008: finally, pro-television television.

The Bathroom of Fine Art: sidewalks, empty streets, footprints of plucked gates, Volkswagons, deer on the tincture of this country.

Jacques Tati: Out! His big country in front of the calendar, his straight waking and pragmatism.

Jacques Tati: Villian, pro-Selznick.

Right around the Russian stopsign: "Heart-flavored shadows."

Birdsong: "Girls over the bullhorn."

Girls of the Illinois: Out of her cotton blouse, her driving motion, and the governmental light of McDonald's.

Liberal arts: None of those poses we proposed were fixed, toilet near the perfumed feet of Robert Frost, Norman off his raft, disassembled someplace with a rhombus drifting away from the television and the player piano and the Presbyterian bake sale.

Star Magazine: One man toddling on a cornerstone, his long thought cleft away from the Weak Shadow play invisible like newspapers.

Newspapers: The fish that nestles in your anus will be back.

Classical Rhetoric: We'll miss your ugly men hiding behind the postal system, etc. etc. etc.

Philip Jose Farmer: from his stories black treetrunks against the moon, salt for invisible democracies.

Black treetrunks: The foot is not Phaeton, it will release yet possess all.

However: you left the country of poverty.

Waking: In front of the calendar, near the parallel bars, out of your terminal winter morning, near the country fixed as the sign above a certain dogpound, it's something completely different, the humble touch of unfinished places.

Peoria: When our bikelock's on television, wind-up pianos are the thing that's free.

Now: birdsong spattered in laughter.

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19130