Prufrock
Prufrock Softly confused She hinted to me Like a rumor. I imagined the kiss Of a complicated lover But instead spoke delicately About Saturn’s 62 moons. Later on a bus I thought that tomorrow, In a desiccated morning, I would try to write Fourteen lines of poetry.
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Green House at Night 7
Another Doctor’s Love
Another Doctor’s Love I sit again in my beloved shop of coffee At 6 in another of God’s lonesome Sunday mornings— Thinking on yellow lines of cocaine— And there is the aspect Of another woman before me. Yesterday, I saw a girl misty, Not obese like the others, And now there is a new,…
Car in the Parking Lot
Another Bus in the Parking Lot
Bus in Parking Lot
The Gray Can
The Gray Can It is 7:16 in a coward’s evening On this yet another drooping Wednesday. I would say that I am no longer bedraggled over you, That I need you like Comet, That I have 12 geisha now, That they studied in Kyoto, That they are not shy like you and me. Yes,…
Man Pushing a Cart
The perfect Pain
High art.
And the Monarchs
And the Monarchs We shall talk again sometime, And I shall speak timidly About the morning’s quarter moon. I won’t mention Joyce or Hemingway or Kant, For I have never read their useless, futile words. When inspired and perhaps calm, I shall hint at the irony of all things, And I shall want…
Guy, Bag, Walking
