Idyll

A feather in a wire apparatus plus electronic exhaust
The rat and I in mutual cold

In which the sky proposes wisps of sky information
An old paralysis, you feel that?

These vast affairs with serious night
The old phases of love, someone sang of that

This casual involvement with the skin of profit
In a movement beyond art, come tell me that—

Of a lion’s head and the beloved claw
Creation gathers my filth & your filth: we nod off in that corner

Down the hillside forms tumble
One passenger’s common mistake, it was a curse

Out of the trash of the human poem
To think like that and with little acclaim

Into the gentle bobbing of thistle and candy
This could be a long tradition

Pleasurable scales of wheat lands & corn lands & edge
These former companions through the spider’s web—

Lovely apple, cleo, phil
An intermittent childhood cannot tell us about clouds

Lovely apple, cleo, peach
And various tenting beauties of flowers

It was clearer how to mean to be alone
As convention inserts the presence of today

A few words, throw those down
In lush afternoon vocabulary, dreamy tender cover

They hunt us through the bitching forest
Today is nothing in the work of art