#Americans
at the edge of the city in the garbagedump where the trucks never stop unloading a crazy congregation stumbles from trashmound to trashheap
The way the world is not Astonished at you It doesn’t blink a leaf When we step from the house Leads me to think
Like all children, you were a de f… Member of the Flat Earth Society… Believing nothing but what you cou… Or touch or whatever sense led act… Fruition: mudpies made summer bene…
The clock is dressed in drag, I m… space instead of its own proper as… but if it wore time, would… isn’t visibility an effect of transvestism, that shield pasti…
is thought to be a confession, won… torture, but which our interrogato… hate to record—all those old code… the standard narrative of sandpape… throats, even its remorse, fall ig…
Note: Tomlinson is not only a distinctive poet, but a visual artist of repute. His graphics grace the covers of many of his books. This Homage attempts to imitate his verse style, or ...
The taller the monument, the more… Look, look, a graveyard has fancy… Historians agree: this is the pebb… Every billboard is theoretically a… Mouth: the word’s exit-wound.
I don’t dare speak too loudly, some timbres could be fatal— that string is not too strong I think: and at times I have to breathe. Or maybe I fear
But if they’d give us toys and twi… parents splurge on the average kid… in fact, stacks wrapped with our n… the tree: these sparkling allotmen… guaranteed a lack of—what?—family?…
His task to watch an hourglass was… A ritual cleansing that leaves him… Though no purification’s new enoug… To nullify the need for such labor… Prior soon to repeat, platonic clo…
–to S. The light lay in shreds across the… only your waking could make it who… resuming its costume of day, its r… which seems to overnight get ragge…
From the trees the leaves came dow… until we joined hands with a wand and that act enabled them somehow then to reach the ground where they scuttered round our fee…
One day we notice that the sun needs feeding. Immediately a crash program begins: we fill ro… with wheat, smoke-rings, razorblad… after long aiming
Many decades after graduation the students sneak back onto the school-grounds at night and within the pane-lit windows catch me their teacher at the desk
At your light side trees shy A kneeling enters them
