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Christopher Mulrooney


you will find the Familists at home
in an evil world and
you will say Amen for that
it is well for them but that is not
say the practitioners what
we have to do with here

deux enfants dont l’air seul annonce la candeur

New York writer

say what you will about life it’s free
more than you and me hee hee
I put myself in heads man
heads but it’s always my head
man it aches like a Carlsbad Cavern
with no wind just that slow dripping
mineral water for geological ages
you dig me man?

praise or blame

what is one on about
are the figures in a fun of fame
to dithering dittymongers shame
you past all caring?

so be it then
and all the wild cares
be cast into plowshares
for a moment of this

as saith the bard
with a will welcome to this
as easy as taking a piss
in the bath a-dreaming

we slumbered on the moss

that dim echo of a city thrice-removed
you fancy somehow in all reverie
began as in somehow any ravine
arroyo or gulch with a hawk’s cry

it is by-scholar’d now and arrang’d
which heretofore confusèd was and tame
now clear as bells of old spires come
down the lane or up the High Street

with whispers of low meanings or not so
clever as announcements under glade
past mountains’ rim and winkling plains
full of ramifications and otherwheres’ betides

in a calm moment with no wind freshing
up the mount and sward beyond the hill
outside my window I would ask by thee for
indications and receive of thee the word