for Lyn Hejinian

The world just appears
due to the ignorance of sentient beings
and the usual dachshund in dotted swiss
thickly settled for a measured mile

Even shapes must have a likeness
how puppets dream of being human
in this filmic backwater

where elderly princesses sit
in little pools of deportment
regarding the blue of birds

Ideas take the place of sorrow
indistinguishable as larches
letting the clock run out
on the you / me phenomenon

The crazier the people you are sleuthing out
the nearer you are to an end of trouble
with bunches of glum airmen
moving in diplomatic circles

Leaves brush open a star
as the tide plants a kiss on the shore

I read: therefore I think:
grim twinkle, skid in the shot

The logic of the gloomy woman
made radiant by artificial light
was inevitably to retreat