Picasso
you give us things
which
bulge:grunting lungs pumped full of sharp thick mind
 
you make us shrill
presents always
shut in the sumptuous screech of
simplicity
 
(out of the
black unbunged
Something gushes vaguely a squeak of planes
or
 
between squeals of
Nothing grabbed with circular shrieking tightness
solid screams whispers.)
Lumberman of the Distinct
 
your brain’s
axe only chops hugest inherent
Trees of Ego,from
whose living and biggest
 
bodies lopped
of every
prettiness
 
you hew form truly

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