We Have To Talk About Another Book

The boy's glasses were real very thick.

He was thinking of this life and the nearest and the next.

The fulvous city bus drove by the blue-by-morning river

but the male child did not see the bus from this perspective.

Two blackbirds have more space than they can handle.

No individual knows time this way the way the blackbirds do.

No individual knows no one: a blade of grass

is the blade in the grass. The stripling stands in his ghost.

One of the blackbirds is now thick with the river.

Some of the branches make regard with affection like an awkward couple.

Or like a brace juxtaposed against the window, which

isn't unusual, on the contrary the window is juxtaposed against

branches,

and the branches are making more uninjureds than usual.

Things become is.

We don't have to make a decision if we don't want to.

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