It’s been suggested by the New Radicals
in America that perhaps the best, no,
the penultimate act would be, of all things,

In the July hot smelly horse manure dust
out behind old man Mooney’s barn
that sits just at the outskirts of the town

I don’t see my mother dancing—
in my thoughts she still trims vines
sprayed blue with copper sulfate

It was only a Daisy,
the kind sold by coupon off the backs of comic books:
Gee Dad it’s a Daisy! He grins up at his father

Shall I roll the universe
into a ball?
Shall I roll you in between

You said you wanted to see
some baby pictures of me.
So here they are. Before you look at them

He said he was going to make this the worst beating
I had ever had, while pulling the split strop out
From its hiding place on the top shelf of the

every song on the radio reminds me of you
each one seems to be the story of our lives
yet i believe nothing is like anything else

We are both in Cambridge, getting ready to load all her possessions into a truck I have hired. I am very excited, because she is coming back to where I live

The new Commissioner was free to choose a dwelling which suited his fancy. If it did not exist, it would be built for him at public expense. But when he asked for a pagoda, he was given a geodesic dome.