Wednesday, March 25, 2015

IRREGARDLESS

Fair warning—near the very
early morning

the poet—warm-
headed

sticky-
haired 
andwaking at last 

from his 
dear precious cache

of small 
curdled rest
to behold in that

momenta bewildering 
new panorama 

of colors 
and
forms
and sensations—and thereupon 

rising
and moving—slowly
to inhabit 

tesseract
after 
tesseract 

of convoluted 
rooms that 
will need describing;

any little man 
such as that
is quite likely 

feeling a disparately 
good bitless substantive
than he 

contemporaneously 
might be feelingconfident 
articulating.

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