The Dead Add Another Voice of Reason

Blouse are the ones I want to protect.

And my cat of twenty three lives collec-

tion. Please enjoy the moment, dress her up like

an assembly line. Sleeping on a public bench is fine,

but come in out of the water.

You've heard the unspoken farewells, or you oughta

've, in three languages: Mean, Coarse and Unanswered.

How can I protect my blouse against blizzard?

Is there any hope that a goddamn garden

can stand the complex chaos of one more generation of garden

ers? Are the dead giving me uncontrollable hives

or a pistol-whipping piety broken before it arrives?