Friday, August 19, 2011

Drum beat.

We're not so fortunate that we can claim to have known
The guy who invented marble. Or
The woman who invented an open book in the grass.

She must've been there looking at herself. What a shadow on her feet!
What grass!

Someone--I guess, approached the table with bashful taste
And said, I don't claim to be Ingres, but I spend all my time thinking;
I invented the way I look at a girl in public.

Today is a kneeling crawlspace in the glands of the wood,
With neither cursive nor curious searcher.
And I am not going to lie, I get lost in it.

Today I invented a door to a house
Just to be thought of.

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