August 2012 – Page 9

in the shade, parkside, the man with lava in his eyes won’t give in, I never find a park bench built for 1, lawn chairs collapse, luckless me, I’m off to feed the cats

there is the purposed sett, there is the monument, theirs, a simple settle, there, in that , they met; therein is the mystery, there is no whispering, ‘ there is a silence, sir ‘

& as my family is man, why does ‘ another autumn rose, ‘ astonish me?

theory, ‘ is it? ‘ therein if its unrest from downtown to datumdatatowns today, tuesday & a week-end ‘ is it? ‘ now ‘ whatever ‘, so they say, & mother, may-eyed, willingly assents, ‘ that’s strange ‘

grammars’ eschatology, ‘ starts as censor ends in arsony, ‘ and yet, escarpments grapple or compel us to the sands, our enurnings, aul varieities over-riotous, the well-kin sum with spades & kitharas