I have a hard time saying my own name
I have a hard time making this work
This is not funny
This is far from serious
A line of cars was end-stopped
And therefore not enjambed

The fruit of experience and not the fruit
Of experience
Lungs and suffers
The rapes of graft
The found and the çurly
The voice flat and unimpassioned
Like that of one who knows something
Good morning Dr. Spooner

Surly some revelation is at hand
Close at hand or father away
What are the fingers called
The little one near the tip of the nose
The ring finger near the bridge
The thumb between the cheekbone and the ear
The other two on the brow
And the rest

Aleatory nuances
Otherwise pretensions
Presumptions
Pomposities
Affectations
And other exaltations

Press the claws into the flesh
Withdraw the claws violently
With gouts of flesh

Tune in tune in
Only remember
Only sever
Only connect
To alight upon tall cold places
And leave the marshes behind

O to be a wicked youth again
Tumbling wet yet through the steamy marshes
Not yet the docile seated elder
Among those conscious of their reverenditude
Upon their stone benches
The thumb between the cheekbone and the ear