the slut from above

the seeing

eye all that disembogues

at long length trawling for shrimps

in the high drafts of cold evening

lingers malingers

all livelong day and the cauchemars

frightsome come from Planet Mars

with gondoliers

parked by their radios

and double-parked

what is this fantasy so well-bred

so nickel-plated so bold as to bell like a bellows-driven orchestrion in the

ears of the knowing

it is all the same to the earth the cunning not so very much the same

cunning as green the earth blue sky white waters orange evening pink

clouds like mounting waves that break in curls on turquoise

jewelry racked up above the painted desert

with the sisters of mercy in the alcove of memory speed-dialing the auto

repairman who never was

but when it rains it pours

and such never fictions as these