00327 Homage To John Ashbery

We drove downtown to see our neighbours; none of them were home, all that was underfoot was lost, cathexis arrived early in a golden coach; seems we weren’t welcome despite; dear spit, the week is turning over. Yes, I can see I am only in the where – What does the loneliness in all this mean? How can ‘rare earth’ be an element? NB: what is here is certainly not there. Sometimes I think it’s all one big affectation, Every one has to grow up a little in their life. My head ached from all those boulevards rushing in to fill the unthinkable well; outside under a slappy sky the leaves were right on: it’s coming to a theatre near you. Like all good things, life tends to go on too long. I'd like to write you about all this.