the dead say they like to embody in toys (feels comfy

I asked Philip Whalen through the cut-up machine, "Should I be afraid of this new year?

Here's what he replied.


     Philip's Sixth Response


thrilling a child that ends with a (dead pilot) story to excuse
too movielike.


bill, even two geese can admire...



FUCK elevates so we are not eaten by that he loves.



Asseocarnisanguineoviscericartilaginonervomedullary is lyrical backwash, the self Baby categorizations.


Here's a fable:

A Poem was another life. It snowed into an office, and shit I drew a bunch of dead authors' voices overlapped around you then. They didn't test you everywhere in plane time, if keeping I always arrived as an old woman who had the greatest stories of bent. But it ended badly. Every dead one was refusing to ever come, and she created an artificial murder near her. I think she contested her spinsterhood, but it was one while she was still alive. She afflicted the bishops, she was a hellion with a photogenic, frightening weird Hiroshige-like pastel postcard name. I remember her stories of heroin that arrogated herself a greedy role in rationing ghosts to urban poets. They adored her as they killed her while Marjorie-spotting over their shoulders...


So many ways.


One ends up rationing love, all greedy.


bill, are you a child building a Mayakovskayan Lego house? it's okay if you are, i'm just asking...


Wait, I have to clear my throat...

I liked these dramas the poems in this collection which is in love with the poems, the poems which talk about the poems over and over, so in love it cripples the poems to know they are wanted and loved so... know that is like a thing of a version of a larger-than-life variety that is neither here nor there but is something according to certain ones who think so...


there. that's better.

Orpheus was so beautiful in constant rotation, a Caucasian like Eminem

Hum.


It was translated by Simic working true that wipes out
the earth worms.
The drunk


But there those and a person ends up in space and enters the fray often.


I'm being oversimplistic deliberately.


Lump inner and outer at once leak and edwards outwards I'm seeing what you're hearing, you know....


But if one end points, poets would fall Some poets SHUT UP. I can't be great poets.I'M either extreme and everywhere in between. TRASHCAN LOOKS BETTER THAN THIS A FUCKING like Adrienne Rich UP down at the like good salon would an engaged poet be herself from contemporaneity altogether?


are there real. both ways: timeliness and timelessness.


Oh, the glory days of Tamaqua. colored in there, absorbing chemicals long into The Mikado, in which our lovely doomed. people are edited by Charles Hass. I think Perelman.



His singing elevates so we are the quietest ones in the book




One wonders how or her living is self philosophical, conceptual flutters, mediumistic turbidities and sprung a suck. They don't get it.

justsuckitimseriousijustwantyoutoputitinyourmouthandsuckitdontholdyrjawlikethatsuckitsucksuckit

so common i guess.



sometimes a very pig woman is a man-prophet, exorcises them: language, all rivers and gadarene



that's Gertrude's charm when she says, Fuck you, Hamlet...