The Barber's Fingers Move October
If I watch two white cats play in a window
which is not the window I should be watching
when a window I watch through is the window
I should be washing, then we know today
is going to be a difficult to listen to all his talking
when his shirts are open, when is face is
pulsing. Would anyone like to see my thumbs
lonely, or growing from one leg to the next
brownstone overflowing with people unprepared
for how happily I'm going to be making lunch
look like a portrait of milk next to seventy-two
days of tomato soup, each peppered
with less cooking makes for opportunity to see
my foot pressed against Grant's Tomb
which is just to say mustache. But
could landmarks be what I've been neglecting
to mention, how unproductive never leaving
the house might actually be what you were
meaning? I'm sorry. Sometimes listening takes
stealing a bus, or finding a way to parking lots
large enough in which to fishtail.
A reason for snow having not come. This year
is going to be a good idea becomes better
after sharing it with stringers, or settle down
before you worry yourself into a newspaper
subscriber who won't take the time to more
than rinse a mug. Isn't water what we were after
all I can't remember, but believe as a child
I was a vision of not really the strongest swimmer
on his hands, collecting grass for filters because enough
with the ceiling fan it's summer Sam no one but me will
believe you are robot who prefers a beach in tight
khakis with no belt because it's back home holding
his project in rotation, which is sort of like me
now, see how I can make my chair stop or keep
my chair spinning, either way I must be up for something
has made one white cat try hard his face against
the glass until a vein appears which, followed, leads
us back to apparently my bicycle was taken off
the shelf. What if I rode it with my knees spread down
the four flights of stairs out this building
into the street without checking the car's side
mirrors for if I still pedal with my mouth open?
Better you leave it too precarious in the doorway
for me to follow after the door is knocked
by the wind from a window I will open now
that it's safe to say this has been a full morning
of staring through the half-reflection of my face
figuring out how it would sound
to understand every word you were saying.
Samuel Amadon |
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