What can I say? I know the textile trade,
Its crafts, its business, inside and out.
Each side of the Atlantic is the same;

If you can't fuck me while I read, fuck off.

Please chortle everywhere for me
If you love S-E-X (sans E).

"The days are getting long now,"
he said.
"Short," I replied,

Before the opening of the wrought-iron gates,
The gravel walks receive in daily dawns 
Reindentation to fresh herring-bone

I’ve inherited famine.
Taste, a gluttony: my mirrored crawl.
The women of my line dwell in fractions,

Can residents who paint or draw
display art in the lobby?
No, their art might be ugly.

A choreographed wanting
from thin, soured soil, this perfect
endurance: the grapes

The movie starts with a man sending pictures of himself,
      like all movies do,

A man in long shorts had a tiny dog
he tossed into the leaves piled at the edge 
of people’s yards, the dog