Monday, April 9, 2007

For instances ("Stranger, I had words for dinner")


I could have flung for
fear a fairer word. At sixes and
seven-eight-nine-ten — no
other voices disturb. All vocabulary

is subject and cues. No clue
but timber, no love but
stranger. So much
and so much. And so
far.





[Another in the “For instances” sequence (see below), this one based on the second line from Jack Spicer’s “Magic,” published in “Homage to Creeley / Explanatory Notes,” the first section of The Heads of the Town Up to the Aether.]

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