Upon this accidental, plane
the zest of honest chat,
the absent conversation
rotating
through obvious avenues
easy enough through
the time lines
etched with decisions.
Here were the hidden wires
the Masters
movie on which the women who have nothing
to do
and in a house she has
to do nothing just a little while
sculls crash against the shore
mr. Bagwell
tying his tie
while the tea is traded in the room
the vortex sucks the resins and the oils.
The hot wind bends.
2.
That was sterling the mating of doubloons,
a strident merriment, a cocoon
where the leeches resumed
green the rushes in the marsh at noon
litter in the park
complained
at being treated in this way
the portage of the words
stored in grave sad buildings.
The prophecies do not conflict.
In 2012 he will have been playing cards
with a doting child
when the chain in the machine clicks
and breaks the cog,
the king’s seneschal is set upon
and murdered in the street,
Barabbas is released
his broken shackles
clanging on the cobblestones.
There was,
in deeper pits a grim wit displayed
another litigation
while mr. Bagwell makes his way
to the docks
through the crowds.
3.
The ease of such pity
is not easiliy dismissed
the fragmentation falls into the sea
the hissing of hot steam
denotes
only that the careful calibration
has gone awry
a bit of stray stone
slashing the red sky.
Mr Bagwell is concerned with his columns
and in his haste steps lightly over the corpses
arranged according to nature’s whims;
There is no honor here
Mr. Bagwell in fine linens
clutching his things
while the wind bends.
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