I always felt I had half an hour
to prove nothing

 

was wrong with me.
Though this material was not

 

uninspiring, I didn't
pass. Other people passed.

 

Mind your itinerary angel
it'll just keep snowing sand.

 

I know Route Six is South
and Herring Cove is West

 

but hey hey Beach Forest
permit me an unknown,

 

permit me a shadow.
Otherwise I'm counting

 

every breath, unless
and until, until and unless.

 

Hey hey Beach Forest

let's find a way out of this text.

There is a reference to what's left out
only occasionally. Can we identify

page 29 gussied up a little less?
A sense of flux is not conveyed by

 

Give it a title. A sense of flux is
(not) conveyed by Died of X.

 

Then there's the level of myth,
a going to Hades thing.

I will be more interested in this process.
I see the motion, I give back

 

an echo chamber. Don't settle
for capturing beautiful things

 

about that difficulty.

Why would it be anywhere?

Not like a goth kid feels mild
to moderately vanquished
by Orange County, no, not like that

 

at all, but on your back
with a diagnosis. Can't fix
the man, can't fix the man.

 

Doctors don't know everything, darling
come on up from the ground. But how
will we get you up the stairs?

 

Dear god, help us make this
funny. The neurologist prescribes
whip-its. The phlebotomist collects

 

porcelain fairies on her desk.
One of them is missing Los Angeles.

One of them is dead.