Ampersand Capital

Sometimes, as they say, Things happen. 
Meaning, I suppose, whatever you want it to mean.

I have several theses:

I. Pray

A pause encumbered
is a pause remembered.

Look at the funeral parlor. When Tommy couldn't think of anything to say--Heck! We couldn't even move on!--& so forth.

The point being:
I'm just the stub
on the pint (sporty)

like a goddam melon or a goddess
pretending to elicit nothing
from these Iowan Railroad bribes...

II. Transfer

The illegal motion
of blind women.

III. Hark

A herald angel
sings,
whatever She wants to
understand? She does
the polka, does the drugs,
the cocaine, the
party favors.

As if we didn't need the article.
As if we didn't need the needle
to thread the spot
between two wrong places
& the right one.

That's it--there. A cool lotion
breeze like a naked Brazilian removing
her top. Yes, in fact, writing can be
erotic. Like esoteric facts or
suns bents out of shape:
MAYBE YOU ARE NOT SO SPECIAL
after all, said the sun enthusiast,
bored (not bored) but jealous for once (as usuallly
he is)

spouting like Champagne flutes
in the town of Champaign
hub of internment camps &
poor (meaning excellent) water quality.

It's just another half-assed ending
of the type from a man (man? Manila?)
who drinks more than Peter Gabriel
may have disliked Phil Collins.

That's fucking right. Emphasize the profanity.

& so on.