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The plum-lacquered woven Japanese basket Phil
lately back from Kyoto gave us,
Juliet’s baby bed on Nymph & Cherry
The year Phil dwelt over on Larch with Don
Beyond the shimmering silver dollar eucalypti,
Sometimes strolled two dirt road blocks to visit,
People mad at him if he came over, if he didn’t
he later recollected.
Toting his laundry downtown, two sad sacks.
Later on camped down on Terrace tender
dear heart crotchety and alone
In the same town with the vivacious Muse
Not quite on the outs & not quite on the ins w/ her,
impatient
amid nasturtiums
One day on acid sternly informed me, Thomas Clark,
Poetry will never get written this way.
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