Is It Poetry (1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)
moon mother why
I heard moon, heavenly sing...
Enthrall paper translucent runs.
is is cup passed on it's openly sea..
lips open sing praise, trip it so..
One sun, mixed mercury..quickly..
Night dresses Venus, in it's smile..
knowingly..it's is simply..languishes.
Still chariots of Mars, others seek..
Ernst is timid, Pluto to hide, one orbit
Songs, hearts, memories lay as covers..
Canaries, cages, colors airy is weepy so -
on papers floor it carries it's nest, of song..
Moon beams gather oceans reflection of..
It is plain, visions full, it's records differ..
So painful, is playfully also read is red.
To bamboo to moon to green to brown..
The wine is strong..so puppied in..so is..
so cupped..is to why not laugh..is yours..
red...white...so blue..others letters..on..on..on
One dawn lays out in forever, knows hardly..
of is it night, spun cotton day in feathers....
Speaking it is, not knowing to? yet how is it..?
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