ditch,

from solids, or, strike-out (a suite)

adjunct

I know nothing of eden but the lack of parties would have probably

killed me

I am looking back on eating an apple

the conductor is clear as the sky

the texture squeaks of the curds on my coloured teeth

everything credits to a lack of understatement

poem (three dog night)

I stand a urinals chance away

we fall in & out of step

the dog at the end of the street barks at nothing

who am I to suggest

the house is much bigger than the shed

a corollary

the squeak of the cart is like a mouse

the tension that pulls us apart & holds

I am studying the window the horizon

a buddhist phrase of corn is not profound

I am destination more than I am willing

I am left w/ song & water paving

the same ground; covered

fire

proofing it right

the sequence of events is critical

if no the fire or the smoke or the trees

the speculation of time is question

these clouds thumbtack the hard moon

I am standing in the barn at seven

everything is not all right

the city

thinking squarely in the face

I passion trees; I heart the moon

exposition is not clear reason

the silo at the edge of barn as

old as I & crumbles

the city remembers bees

beauty squarely in the eye

could never look me in the you

house

at some point it was a good idea to put the couch out

the house in glen robertson the hill stands

tim hortons coffee fresh as the ice

he says, when in rome. . .

instinct my critical song; my failed life

as a montreal go-go dancer

thighs out to ready; heart the wind

I am as proceedural as stone berth

harkening the telltale thump of heart all

roads lead to

no more oldies; stop playing that middle

of the road shit

I am dead outside

religion

the merit of association is punctuated

I heart & the world hearts me

brockwell laughs at aphids, not aphorisms

I am the other way around

the tree at the top of the hill is a red line

a suggestion of birds overwhelm

the water is think & reliable

if being afraid of the arc needs a bite-light