Franciscan Complex

Each day the job gets up
And rubs its eyes
 
We are going to live on in dry amazement
 
Workers push the granite bed under the avenue
 
Bed of the married
The re- the pre-married
 
Making a form as forms become infinite
 
The scrapings scraping
 
Graywhacke chert
 
People wait for their bumpy little pizzas
Theories of theories in gravity voices
 
Melpomene goddess of tragedy bathes
 
Mostly the bride never the bridesmaid
 
Angel food in whole foods
 
Consider Tanguy whose lunar responses to childhood
Made everything a horizon
 
Those walking upside down don’t know what to think
 
The finch engineering itself to deep spring
 
Or you life tired of being cured
 
How many layers
Of giving up are there
 
One of it
 
Two of everything in the arc you save