Now we're eating soup with Uri Geller's spoons. There's many an intention tremor between saber-tooth and natural asphalt, between birthday cake and fate. I hereby nominate these previously ordinary objects to be objects of affection. When one side is purely photogenic, one redeeming feature is behind each unmarked door. Some autonomic nervous system you have, blushing husband! When tectonic plates electrically rejuvenate you, will you have a dream of Jeannie or a dram of manna or be good to go?
When you go with me or without me to the
Casbah every maze is that of a relationship else
what's a big brain for? When winter means what
hunger says, the crazies save, and paragons of
virtue crave, the twisted bits and dear. I would be
synchronous not causal. Déjà vu goes both ways.
Objects are of art and bad extrapolation. Fire the
coach but not the owner. Déjà vu goes both ways.
Now I'm giving my imaginary interlocutor the
silent treatment. I say your diploma's in the mail.
In a past century Heikki Huotari attended a one-room school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. They are a retired math professor, have won two poetry chapbook prizes and published two collections.