Remember when somnolence
was a way of life?
and awaking on the train
but somnolent happened?
Damien, I love you.
I don't know if I love you.
You are a luciferous bitch,
persistent as faerie lights
—and those pins
to keep the attention span long.
The lake house was underwater,
required so much maintenance
was the only place where
temperature-appropriate shorts
could be worn, in the summer.
The obstinate ponce
would not get out from under it.
Ever. Strongly considered
moving everything out at night
and leaving the soporific shell
for the bank. But didn't.
To the border of noteworthiness,
it was Michigan, after all.
Manipulating the old dials
with your fingers. I could not
lift myself from the couch.
As if I had a Giger count,
had already given in,
given over many of the
properties of life
to a series of machines inside me
that were
themselves ariot with malignant growth.
The insertion of plea,
if impassioning could be raised:
Do you have any idea
what old vellum is like?
Pount
if the blunt mallet could be raised.
