Anonymous misfortune is sure to meet with me this
Brigantine year. It will come out of
nowhere,
briskly hailing from the clouds like an ice storm.
Racine orders peck at the wee hours of morning.
An occult science is this embrace, this hug we take up
catching all of our arms together as we weave our
Interesting arms across each others' shoulders forming
a circle, then lift like one unidentified flying object into
Risky atmospheres, ascending, the pressure building,
Evanescing like spirits of works, goodwill and charity.
Allowances. I have to consider some
children had them.
Blaming lack of discipline on a lack of monetary incentive,
bland moments could be made vivid by household chore.
Revealing the neighborhood dynamic, every house different.
Alluring the Pony Express, the Santa Fe, and Oregon,
Conscientious trails took their different course from three
Inferred rivers, the greatest rivers of America all in one
Allusive intersection of Missouri, a motherhouse of crushed rock,
revelation of resource, with a fur trade export, the incredible
Sauce a farmer’s wife maid or a farm’s cooks, what could ever be
Inferior about this place of caves and stone, and agricultural yield.
Altitude are left for a higher state, this Missouri, I’ll drown my sorrow
blankly in your rivers. Though we won’t
swim there, if you’ll have us,
revenge will be held at bay for some advantage of a place you cannot
organize either, or reach. Every time I
read about this place, the scratched,
nonstick pan seems insignificant; but where did they make this pan?
Together with our phalanx we shall set out with our pitch forks and shovels,
saucepan in hand, for sorry Queen Anne.
Yes, we have a motion for
Altruistic reprieve and then retrieval.
I don’t know what, but let’s swim.
Toffee melts in the coffee, we stir it around, we wait seeking adventure,
Orienteering ourselves toward a new set of coordinate points on a compass.