Five Untitled Pieces 1. Let's go someplace, sit and seem Intelligent. The more I see you, The more I trace captivity's Dry branches, comb the sequels Of past atmosphere. The lowly Afternoons form silences.
Frets stave off propinquity.
From where I work, The spindle's crazed with Icons over the limit, Leaving pictures Where we work. Floor syllables Perfume dreams out of bounds. A wanted passage lures us To time off the clock Wearing comforts. In my arms, requires mint Blasphemy to hustle the arcane Press of a dimwit cusp. Symmetrical malaise aloof For now re-swindles steaming Acreage to seed by Laminate rubricity.