The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

Restrained, nappy, wild as an underbuilt galaxy, shifty, dilated, still, ladylike, childlike, unreasonable ice in the summer wind, plymouth, imbeciles, bullies, jealous angles, altruistic beasts, always prepared to give you themselves, always late to the takeaway. You make too much sense as the helpless eventuality far off in the distance impaling yourself onward with black is the color of my true love's-- hurry then, there's a trapdoor in the halfway hour--complacency, indifference, and it turns all this weightlessness into manual labor toward the damage, toward the hanging of hot lights on a banister in hopes that the climb is worn blind on up like a pucker. That's not what it's like tonight it's like as important as hopelessness and as hopeless as order in the context of swarm, as obedient as skin. Look at him, sitting there, limp as the thousand lookouts and missing the house in the sheltered cry of myth, which is always saying yes, and then disagreeing with itself like a lowdown heckler's perfect timing, fiends for the dialectic, unambivalent in spacesuits,
stompin and
stompinandstompinandstompin and