A Quotidian Occurence

Miss Thang, how you be? Does it console you
only in body that someday this will be a quotidian
occurrence? You melt yourself against the sheets in a
nihilistic sweetness that seems to forget that those
pages
should have died, and already have, on trophy flames
hitting drum tones not just for suggestion, but too
I segue madly skin-happy. There's a brief whiff
noteworthy of sourness, of skunk; I think a whole
evening's dishevelment shoved devilishly silvering

right next to you when you snore. Henry, oh Henry!
And THAT, sweetie, is how I seem to have forgotten
determinate tears once mine but now somehow
(I don't know, I'm only a "speech act") fit nearly
oblong next to us, and definitely tough with feathers

5/16/02


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