#Americans
at the edge of the city in the garbagedump where the trucks never stop unloading a crazy congregation stumbles from trashmound to trashheap
Satiety help me I have inhabit of this world. Extant upon its des… to be more aimlessly fluttering at the window, to shadow all the patt… it offers each sun. In frames far…
Poetry, you are an electric, a magic, field—like the space between a sleepwalker’s outheld ar…
I examine my skin searching for the pore with EXIT
I’m tired of murdering children. Once, long ago today, they wanted… now I feel Vietnam the place where rigor mortis is beginning to… I force silence down the throats o…
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…
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
(Nonasyllabics) In retrospect the tragic nature of sea is a taste wept too daily, too depleted by freedom’s rupture; the eyes have other secrets to see
Our love has chosen its appropriat… Which when viewed in the midst of… It didn’t choose seems almost insi… The gesture our love has chosen is… We both agree not that we have any…
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?…
Even if the mountain I climbed Proved to be merely a duncecap It was only on gaining its peak That that knowledge reached me. *
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 ...
Bending over like this to get my h… Rummaging through the white trashc… Of the Patent Office I find a ki… Here in this warm-lit alley where… Even the rats too they know that n…
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…
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…
