Magic circle of horses                    + magic funicular.
               heaps of stuff being sold.

               freedom to trace this petty action.
where do we                go now?

floated up there along you                               abandoning you
who was able
                  for better floating, our living

                  + one mother’s voice,            magic little river.
                  heaps of stuff being sold.

                                     the ones who seemed like dicks like Michelangelo
                  or just “consummate artists”—
                  vegetables                out
                  on the ground.

dogs chilling in their roundabouts.

                  so it was coming                      from the corn
                                    the sun prairies    to the maze    /   to the faces
without haloes      .

the wing yellow into white                  + yellow mint.
motif of garden or pocket

while the fog rolls in no
magic from the bunker
                                                                         or what’s coming but magic

                         said she
                         to be alive
at all. the earth

plunged in
                into rooms.

while they worked in shops,
               made something we would call clog or carved
messages to outer space

                                      upon boxes of varying dimensions.
                                      involved their bodies and bodies
of children               in apparatuses

for days or weeks or years.
+ from obscure movements                                  sent out trinkets,

               clothing, God.
               when he died everyone paused
               to take a little stock,
                                  his brief remarks were read aloud.

               energetically the dark converses

like magic the
casino.                   carousel + empty

              metal barricades, old country baroque
              music + lithium.
              long walk for food.


                          “the future is hidden.” (Kropotkin)
                          as one retires to her quarters
          the narrative gathers power                          + people remain.
through blood.          deciding between

                  the social goods. “meaning and confusion
                              are both beautiful.” (Goodman)

                               + late at night or the mean cashier
old markets                       where a general idea of many
                became sick
                                   unto the reality of one.
                                   the turquoise tarp

housing some pigeons.

                  that property                          of the baron’s,
                                    still there on the moon.