Bunch of Stuff Poem by John Ashbery

To all events I squirted you
knowing this not to be this came to pass
when we were out and it looked good.
Why wouldn't you want a fresh piece
of outlook to stand in down the years?
See, your house, a former human energy construction,
crashed with us for a few days in May
and sure enough, the polar inscape
brought about some easier poems,
which I guessed was a good thing. At least
some of us were relaxed, Steamboat Bill included.

He didn't drink nothing.
It was one thing
to be ready for their challenge, quite another to accept it.
And if I had a piece of advice for you, this is it:
Poke fun at balm, then suffer lethargy
to irradiate its shallow flood in the new packaging
our enemies processed. They should know.

The Gold Dust Twins never stopped supplicating Hoosiers
to limn the trail. There's no Shakespeare.
Through the window, Casanova.
Couldn't get to sleep in the dumb incident
of those days, crimping the frozen feet of Lincoln.