Thor and Formica are each in their own special way
winning the war for our boys, that crazy gang from Avondale

I set my sights on toast and loads of tea and pumpkin seeds

When he left to plow the sea and husband
other lands, she became all fire.
The flames clutched air, their smoke

"Death is also the thief of beauty," he says,
as a slow disquietude replaces morning's calm.
The pink light fades from ashen clouds,

After long hours of mindless labor,
yoked with debt, they are released like oxen

to graze in the remnant grass of another day.

Beautwelve fills the whisper and
all want fragments why along to check
the short page what your convictions
this is shudder and this is antenna mail

I am this haunting music. Never look
Beneath the mask. There is a monster there—

Castilian countryside.
Bleak with furze

We must all open ourselves to the influence of Love.
We must all let its fleshless fingers caress our skin.

At first she is only mildly annoyed: the car
won't start, it's happened before. She'll phone
her husband—what is his name?—at his office,