the bruise will stop by later.
For now, the pain pauses in its round,
notes the time of day, the patient’s temperature,
leaves a memo for the surrogate: What the hell
did you think you were doing? I mean . . .
Oh well, less said the better, they all say.
I’ll post this at the desk.
God will find the pattern and break it. — John Ashbery
Ashbery has been dead for over a year and I’m just now reading from more than Self-Portrait In A Convex Mirror .
In other news pt. ii of my interview with The Psychedelic Times is up (the more substantial half I think).