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October

I am here. As if here. Writing a poem under conditions which are not
ameanable to it. As Bernadette Mayer advised. What if a conjunction
were a verb. I and you a something to keep you from something
something. You but me away. I so all alone in my room. Who is
the sad girl, Mommy? Meaning it stinks in here. Al alone. May be
he took his face off becuse he was mad about his face. Because
I don’t know why. I’m anding along when it starts raining so I
become an umbrella. Getting wet to keep myself dry. You for
me a lime yet it buts and so nor for and I and and but yet. So.

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