silver & gossamer & porcelain & cobwebs
some people are made out of
they walk from here to there
a limited number of times only—
but the bony phone is just dumb plastic
it rings not at all

i don't understand: my ideas are universal
but my audience is five guys at the shell
station people just don't get it

she longs for what makes her grin
(tînjeşte dupâ ce rînjeşte)
the sweetness of want
the repulsiveness of having
after days she was returned
by the storms of language
that had tossed her far
& she rearranged her face
for the english language—

what i heard i did not hear
what i saw i did not see
i trust my sense to dullness then
i kill my joy & cease to be