ems poem

Bears are anal but so is Paris
and light the moveable feast
of doctors, lots of shit really.
Som eat worries and words very probably
like being flecks, an ocean

of foam tigers, Hiroshige washing-machine


some eat worries

did I say that already?



and it is damp, in such attics


blown brothers


Miranda July seems to be sharing people


in her art I mean


Your poems should have lots more clouds

I think


and E.M.S. personnel