feel good sunday!!!!!

one evening
sitting beneath a tree
positively after your usual bed time
its musculuar branches obscuring the moon

that shorn sphere was then a broken white plate
on navy carpet
unlike, the plate, however, it could keep doing its job

i wonder how many applicants there were for the position

and if they, upon rejection, receded into space
with the speed of one thousand impotent
men's luridly painted automobiles

embarassed stars

im sinking into the cotton out in the field
with the workers suffering from sun stroke
on a sunday afternoon, when the sun is stroking
my exposed parts with a remarkable conscious grace and caution
and, oh, how enjoyable it is
and, oh, how relaxing it all is

and, oh, how preoccupied
you can get turning all these
smooth stones over in your soft hand

that you will not even notice him then
your favorite worker
is covered in bats
staring in your direction