We are

 Are we here?

  a time being being time being for the time the moment a crisis hefting a loaf over
       god's wound, god's womb,


And we are here      ~

____________

Another

_____

  Another day an then July

              yet this other  afternoon       rain  

( i don't mind  at all )   ,      wind,            sun,                 overcast  

                sky   as                 hair,

       longing the night

                   whose  overtures and pens,

       which requiring night alive becomes its seed, bran, and wolf to the air,

                                                                           its risen sun,

__________

June is ...

___________

  June is a half day summer room
          
        the light boxing in the square of shadow 

            marvelling  at

               the moments it makes .

____________________

Kip?

_____________________




Kip kip got no kip?
   what ya gotta do no kip? my son?
   The sailing days
             in   the railing days the wander ray aloof side-down upside town
                 and us sides down ringing


 You  been gone  a minute you been gone a day it's the same an instant too soon
             forward and far begun again

                     with the love total ball bearings down
                                your fane catching the earth
                                     scraping along
                                         your claws making feet of the ground


That's a lovely skirt my Jill on  a hill     ~ .

___________________

told you_in the first order of discourse,

_____________________

tell me about your books,

     show me your  _________ and i will tell you more by and bye   ~ a buy for you and her an me~
________________________
a  bye-bye for two to keep three company

 greedy insufferable oedipal pal who whoreships women yets afraid for their lips, bodies, minds, rays, crushes, trhroate sores, non beeings mistake,putty, thorn,
 clay,
what?

 Says it all and nor so    ~   .

_______________________

  That's Mister Poetry talking, tilting , not playing the literary game at all, but really
  he's playing the Literary Machine, the Antilogos that quarks it's way round town not saying or doing much except machining all t he time humming away  like Hal,

you know what I mean?

Or no,

 start again, start over, start for, rover that keeps her witch on the base of a bottom boom!

Kaboom!  her lover speaks to me on the Metro Lundi evening, approaching the airport,

an avion, an areoplane, a buzzing distributing saw, a plane of consistency,

                                                  dripping glue and gue  and boo woo-woo,


Okay Mister Duffy recall to poetry  .