If it’s loveliness you want, here, take some,
hissed the black fairy. Waiting for the string quartet,
on the corner, denatured I wondered what the heck.

“Why did that man stare, and stare? All afternoon it seemed
     he stared

America’s old churches were seen as a new
philosophy of one-upmanship:

Customize the event, picking at soul scabs,
turning your face optimistically toward the window.
There must be a long biography coming out soon,

As I was saying it’s a never-ending getting
closer if you will, a class-unconsciousness searing
these ears for a lifetime, and by then it’s time

The first of the undecoded messages read: “Popeye sits in thunder, 
Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment, 
From livid curtain’s hue, a tanagram emerges: a country.” 

Scribbled on the expansive mist, the desire
of many dwindles to us
and our “activities,” wholesome

The deep water in the travel poster finds me 
In the change as I was about to back away 
From the idea of the comedy around us— 

I’d had a “good night’s sleep,” meaning
thinking of waking, and waking,
shifting closer together, and then not.

What kind of a mentality 
causes men to commit suicide in their air-conditioned glass
      boxes?