the trapdoor is closed; am finite again, but a moment ago—levitation!
purple lights the bluewater bridge turned on the oil-
black river st clair became fuel for the nightfishers there
it was the dream of a memory or the memory of a dream
that dumped me below a window, watching a woman change
into a man. she entered his dairy log: at first all the world was america
and didn't that suck, he thunk, and strunk his cunk against
an overwrought iron fence. they stood waiting like that photograph
of the bootblack jack and the aristocrat
looking away from her window
at a fact well worth recording—Alexander Graham Bell wanted to call
his daughter Photophone. between the forest and the gander
i hand her over to Metacomet. yes i certainly did.
and King Philip sayeth unto me: nature denatured thee
friction alone makes her come therefore i need some more
before you make me wear'um pants. O failed invention!
where'd you get that voice? refusing to come
to a particular point, castration finally made sense.