Thomas Fink
BIRDS DON’T KNOW ANY BETTER
DUSK BOWL INTIMACIES 40
His secretary phoned early to say that he was busy at school. Sticks to his fibs. I told her that his actions stunk, and I had to know exactly when he would see me. Think you could ever manage to hunker down up here where people (famous ones) are now doing all of those beautiful things? Spotless leather, new silken alloys, plastic that fools nearly anyone. This has never been ironed. (You can feel the results.) Still, I wouldn’t want to live here if you were never around. Somebody that really cares about strapping on another purse, discount-fortified. That sniffs out where bargain side-streets lie. I’ll see if he’s really better or not—better for my continuity. Fibs dry.
And
they crack.
We could lounge
here
until both
of us die.
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BIRDS DON’T KNOW ANY BETTER
than to be sucked into jet engines. In order not to serve lethal diversion, the screen dies when your tank gets rum bling. Which bug photo graphed this? Apricots Falling into a triangle. A finger poking out of plaster. 2 guys walking an 18’ steel pipe into a brown ditch. “Graeb ner has potentiality,” my uncle said in ’67, “but he just can’t see with those glasses.” STUPIDLY She thought I was much upper lamp. But when I went freeing, this scared to dearth. Ortho dox cheek bone jitterbug. I wanted to be different —stupidly. Addled at school, paddled again at home, unfit to rumble, unfit to rhumba. You spank the cops, they’ll call your kids. The circus disciplines its misfits. Arbitration pur suant to the right within 30 days & 45 nights to petition for redun dancy. 150 steps to the mail & back. (Others are just as boring. )
DUSK BOWL INTIMACIES 40
His secretary phoned early to say that he was busy at school. Sticks to his fibs. I told her that his actions stunk, and I had to know exactly when he would see me. Think you could ever manage to hunker down up here where people (famous ones) are now doing all of those beautiful things? Spotless leather, new silken alloys, plastic that fools nearly anyone. This has never been ironed. (You can feel the results.) Still, I wouldn’t want to live here if you were never around. Somebody that really cares about strapping on another purse, discount-fortified. That sniffs out where bargain side-streets lie. I’ll see if he’s really better or not—better for my continuity. Fibs dry.
And
they crack.
We could lounge
here
until both
of us die.
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