9
we never step outside the portals
Now if a six
turn out to be nine
I don't mind...
Let's play pick-up-sticks,
kids – bones.
Because it's really
early-late, see. And
I'm no yesman
or gnomon –
I'm a soul man.
(Not really certain,
understand...)
Here's the black
bare cueball.
Duck. Rabbit.
Here's the trick:
square two thumbers
like so, behind a curtain
and then wave your ten
clay beachcombers...
gradually... See?
It's a live butterfly!
It's a handmade moth!
Will you marry me?
I'm only ten.
I'm eleven.
I'm Hen –
I'm your cousin!
3.28.99
8.09.2005
from the long poem somewhere...
Labels:
"J",
butterflies,
Grassblade Light2,
Hendrix,
Jerusalem,
Juliet,
muse2,
nine,
numerology2
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