soup bra

Soup Bra

The atmosphere is a dark bud straining to burst into flower

with the same sort of batty love and berserk gratitude I hear

forget whole languages in which once they were able to express

materials and machinery and so on before people who really

always seemed so distracted, so chaotic, their joys and satisfactions

some major event in their own lives, and to imagine what kind of music

might not recognize the bus, or that it might not come,

gave anybody who could afford them undeserved feelings.