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In Swedenborg's Heaven
 every soul sinks or
rises to its own
level
singing:
gypsie hearts are many / but gypsie feet are few
(the murdered mom's bones
from cellar to attic and back
and now Sandy's
looking bitter: "Linda's
living in a world that doesn't
touch ours anymore. . ."
Jesus
Christ! Belay
that winchin'
will ye
He Ain't Skeered
-- You fellers been Maypole dancing?
It's called in-depth research
asshole.
Suicides always
"come back"
"There Are Levels Past Which Things No Longer Connect"
(Warren Zevon)
we're here to give
whispered the Dream Cadets
casting their Etch-a-Sketches
into the bay
dolphins off Cape
Canaveral sleeping one
hemisphere at a time
paramecium, paramecia
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