The
Birds loudly say their names
In spring
The assonance of making a living
Which side of the moon
Is homework
In spring
Puddles have telekinetic reflections
And walk on their fingers
Furthermore, the séance of computation
Is poetry
A lone piano
Tuned like a pinecone
~
Down the road
Even the sun is dust, even arithmetic is dust
But the dust on this road such fictions
Sweating with the undreamt dark dreaming
Queried with meanderings
~
At the rummage sale
I found a copy of Charles Reznikoff, Complete Poems
And some trading cards of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure
I would never walk the city the same after reading Reznikoff
Hereafter always I would deal with the oddity of time travel with the greatest of ease
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I love the psychedelic riff-raffery of this one, Bob 🙂
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Thanks John. Much appreciated!
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I love the logic of this poem. Wonderful job.
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Thank you!!
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