The Sonnets: L

I like to beat people up absence of passion, principles, love. She murmurs What just popped into my eye was a fiend’s umbrella and if you should come and pinch me now as I go out for coffee . . . as I was saying winter of 18 lumps Days produce life locations to banish 7 up Nomads, my babies, where are you? Life’s My dream which is gunfire in my poem Orange cavities of dreams stir inside “The Poems” Whatever is going to happen is already happening Some people prefer “the interior monologue” I like to beat people up