Origins of Wednesday lii: And the green?

         Ow. In fact ouch.

         I was just bothering over

         these torpid interpretations you see

         when, blessed by the grass, I understood the signs

         in the round. I felt dated,

         much as my contemporaries did.

         The clouds noticed.

         To be off and running

         the distance of a hilltop from old frame

         buildings without whose lens no one

         seems to understand. Nor can they

         move inside when the season decrees sheen:

         black yet morbid at the sunflower's

         peaked center. Yes you know I

         was saying that too. Blank testicles.

        

         Sometimes if we listen without noticing

         at the packed city's center other oblongs allude

         to what the hotel dissipates.

         There were onions at the triangular coated

         basin at the center of all aligning

         and shy tempests attuned to cottage

         meanderings - I mean, save me,

         I might not have candle power

         to unstring meritable hoops. I say,

         have we no thin power rotting

         in English kitchens for the duke's children

         to inherit like insecure boats

         too distant from the onyx horizon?

        

John Ashbery

Planisphere

  Is it just me or

Harper Collins, 2009©

op. cit.

Alexandra Leblans
Souffleur de glace