Franciscan Complex

Each day the job gets up And rubs its eyes We are going to live on in dry amazement Workers push the granite bed under the avenue Bed of the married The re-          the pre-married Making a form as forms become infinite The scrapings       scraping Graywhacke    chert People wait for their bumpy little pizzas Theories of theories in gravity voices Melpomene goddess of tragedy bathes Mostly the bride never the bridesmaid Angel food in whole foods Consider Tanguy whose lunar responses to childhood Made everything a horizon Those walking upside down don’t know what to think The finch engineering itself to deep spring Or you        life       tired of being cured How many layers Of giving up are there One of it Two of everything in the arc you save