Mary Clark



Only one horror. From can’t see to can’t see (The Damned). Borrow and buy from a class out of its mind Routine to the experiment “class act,” answers to any questions are ready. Morning glass and men who babysit the sidewalk. Just in place satisfied, cascading Train thru the drive-in, can you believe any of this blessed industry? It’s a horrible movie, that dead vineyard went on forever. I think I told you now relax @ the rent Big lonely house, no catastrophe


insolvent, unsolvable, precise doorway stains, it’s not my fault


a warning, a round trip come together and think about study






Once a week I re-tell these little stories to you. About people wanting to say more than we have to now, if you can imagine. I liked the Borges, how the man named every number from 1-24,000 in bed with his eyes closed. How he needs a different word for one dog in profile and the same one straight on. Sees every leaf through its own history. Talk of archways, hard drawing and tracing the plane against the window. Retort and retreat. Always back to retreat. Hunger, a lazy enlightenment, requires open fields I feel like. From there to court it, panes of memory, bless the amount of sky increasing. They sang the corners and ash inside. They creased. A prayer of atmosphere. Astronomy of the block, the way it can’t end. Still torn up about Babylon. What were the names of the numbers again.






possessive and turning heads advent overtakes


drugs for the trip sample all light in one corner teacher was like, enough color


buying into everything: billing, shipping, same wasted the last delicate chapter of the walk


draw a gun draw a braid I am warmer in the light regardless


violent edge, blue cradle it gets bigger clouds where there weren’t


you’re in the trailer home is a set