Edward Steichen untitled photo (American 20th century)
(For my pal, F.A., out west.)
Song is the fantasy of all speaking:
Look and see, reading lips
That Sinatra was singing:
"The fire in your heaaaart"
with lopings rupturing those vein-blue lines
Grace restored all eyes to a state of,
Umber poisonous wax on sofa-like bumps
In today's night.
It is no longer used to hurt people;
Ready, but I mean, this soft uncrude stuff
Has been eliminated; now they say it's torture:
People watching with the mute button impushed
And all the candy on the floor from this time.
And all the candy on the floor from last time.