The conductor had a reputation for a salty tongue
which he used to lash performers on occasions.
Andante, the violinists were as busy as bees,
African ones, crawling up the noxious corridors
of Galveston or Louisiana, or straddling derricks,
the multiple shafts pounding the soil to agitated
molecules resembling those upon a tea-cozy.
He ripped the ornaments from the cheap suit of this fantasia
and for free! From the goodness of his heart. Are you
kidding? Think of the emotional-psychological price paid.
That nothing has happened doesn't mean that nothing
will happen. Disappointment is unmet by pleasant surprises.
Check the hardness of the coin by clamping it with your teeth.
The faint canine markings will indicate a counterfeit.
Night music that ushers in a weekend afternoon. You've slept
too late for all your life. The sun's been up, the shoots sprouted.
People have come together: they own and don't rent. A blob
of semen seems to become ash within seconds (meditations).
The manure becomes the fragrance of perfumes and aerosol sprays.
Soon the flower garden's a salad strewn upon
someone's flagstone steps. Keep out, says the white sign,
the picket fence beside the sign. But I hardly go
there anymore anyway. All your life the sun's been up
and you never knew it. When did you leave the yard?
When did you ever have one?
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