the club

it was the wreck in a navy color he telephoned
great pieces of the canyon laid with twenty versions of the sea
this text cut / the sea and oil swirling to the multiple bows
still held fast to the rocks and winking the stern awash
in blinking was apparently sinking

nodd

and all around
was the vast slick glowing
the bright sunlight smoothed away
by the horse latitudes that tumbled
from the atlantic beyond
and musing away to the south
must present an even more massive threat
to the cave of coves
of the West

the savage club

the ruby lodge
in the front of its neck

all of the wreck is in a navy color
he cried
into the tel-fone

with its spinning rings
of albino grackles
harnessed to the sparkling springs
that ran deep into the mountainside
then jutted abrubtly into space

where the weird face lingered
and leered
immeasureably


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