To the inherent men and women, Cunning-cunning-cunning-cunning-cooning-cooning, boom! Boomtime: recommending clemency, he ordered them to go to sleep at noon and practice their disappearing act: dimepieces, coons, no-names, ruffians, we're fine, I can't believe it, but peace comes from these vowels (avowals, confessions, folk-forms, resonance, soon is glad, sooner is bitter) for you and someone inherent sitting in a recklessly minimal room playing cards or music until daylight sets or diminishes. People talk about radar, a mythic destination, and raid our hearts for similar palindromes or switches: tar babies, the listless rate of appearances: I heard he wears high-pegged pants, I heard he's a pagan with no song in his cameras, I heard he paid them to say that, plays the cymbals in a marching band in rural Florida, on the weekends, stingy about when he brings 'em together, cause once they are it's hard to pull them apart, like the marshes they walk upon, gladhanding. Today he's in the yard with an empty watermelon which he has refilled with pennies and magnets and then shook into the shape of where you went, with him: a mellow place, restored to chaos, for the sake of our imaginations and gossip, (geese, geese, geese, goose, duck, (you're famous) runaround) to not forsake them, to not mistake them for the arrhythmias we brag about like patience, consonance, ever-since, iron lungs: stiff places in the word which welcome it to fall off of itself, to vanish, to spell, to miss, to Ms. Hill, and her five children and mister so-and-so himselves, we apologize
