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  • One or Two Ghosts for One or Two Lines
  • Tan Lin

tall blank zebras appear


To care. The aerogramme made a lily of necessity, stumped box, redolence ribboned far off in the glass cities I opened and closed to the dandy drawers. A colt emerged on a clotted pansy. A pan required fanning. This repose a thread files. Inside the spitting rope sweeps like a foppish knot or lighthouse, a beam where the sun withers like snow in its box of jewels. Like a towel-like now.

tiny broom zippers boxed


Light as a ruler, I knitted the whiffing train to coverlet. Dark, I had my lips. They travel apart when I kiss. Exonerated groove. The captioned stock box waved to the master’s bedroom. Clacked suds. All flaking tide and shout was music walking out a headlamp. Engined isthmus, emerged track of levels, it could be nice. The pubescent birdie sleeps in a closed head. So, it knows or it knows. A crumb held out a mighty citron in a beak, screwed backwards. But no ox sniffled to an owl or stockinged box strum through bedroom.


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