thirteen ways of describing anything has become the archetype
for the worst kind of poem
the airplane flies east & pulls just at the hook between
my third and fourth ventricle
all carved up with rust
I have been without you so long I can no longer distinguish
the colours red, blue
would rather be happy than right
you talked of this once, when the lights went quick down
& you asked if I noticed
in my dream, the streets fill with little epiphanies, and pockets
are already full
three men in the same suit
checkmark boxes on bright yellow foolscap
an advertisement for car audio
obscures a young girl reading scripture
I know this is more than a series
of mere moments
are you receiving me?
for the worst kind of poem
the airplane flies east & pulls just at the hook between
my third and fourth ventricle
all carved up with rust
I have been without you so long I can no longer distinguish
the colours red, blue
would rather be happy than right
you talked of this once, when the lights went quick down
& you asked if I noticed
in my dream, the streets fill with little epiphanies, and pockets
are already full
three men in the same suit
checkmark boxes on bright yellow foolscap
an advertisement for car audio
obscures a young girl reading scripture
I know this is more than a series
of mere moments
are you receiving me?

Can't say I have a handle on everything happening here (the title, for example), but there are some wonderful images. I like the "third and fourth ventricle//all carved up with rust" and "three men in the same suit".
i Am receiving you/r words with much appreciation, and a complex gut-like ease.