If I were a piano shawl
a porch on someone’s house
flooding the suave timbre.
Then forty, he,
a unique monsieur
and yet he never wanted to look into it.
“Have you forgotten your little Kiki?”
Smoke from the horses’ nostrils
wreathed the pump by the well.
The stink of snow
was everywhere. Too bad it looks
so good.
O beautiful and true
thou that glitterest
, in storms,
starting to discuss gardening. I don’t
want to throw cold water
on this.
That music has changed my life
a lot, since I made the
mistake of learning it.
Another passionless day. The peach
forms a stain
at the end of the line.
Learn to lock love enjoy:
“The dream I dreamed
was not denied me;
hence my love is mad—
a castle’s satin walls
folded in blood.”
The deputy returned
the pea shooter. I have learned
to plait wasps
into a bronze necropolis.
The ticket and the water
only endure, as one can
in the right circumstances,
mon cher Tommy. I think the theme
created itself somewhere
around here and cannot find itself.