twas the night before Columbus Day, ’70
and the humidity gave a semblance
of warmth to a day not unchilly, even somewhat clammy.

Then I do not know what
to paste next in the
Trash Book: grass, pretending

an orange devours
the crusts of clouds and you,
getting up, put on

              a box          a camera with a one-track mind

behind it

                 can’t see too good

I walk around with no ideals or goals. I pass ripe blackberry bushes.

There’s a man in me who would prove. He is right but little else. My knowledge of people was built up somewhere else. It was a heavy-handed preparation and it dies hard.

I blew money. I lost things. I got over the loud thing for awhile. Loud or quiet is about the same. It means you don’t have anything to come on to people with. And you have to give up first.

James Bond’s girl friend
Lay in bed, having
A bad dream during a thunderstorm

Dear Kenward,
                              What a pearl
of a letter knife. It’s just

You
and
me

In the branches the light

                   so that the limbs

                            go out

1. denigrate obtuse and active verbs pronouns
skewer the sieve of the optical sewer
release the handle that holds all the gates up