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--- P E T E R   J A Y   S H I P P Y

November, I open my mouth to allow ash to enter.


"To the best of my recollection, the deceased's last words were-- 'Recumbent! not recombinant.'

"Or maybe the other way round.

"I guess it matters, only now."


We talked for a few hours and I think for a few minutes we understood each other.


He withe witness-for-tje-derisory, deaccessioned at THE LITTLE STATION OF TOLSTOI, although this was not recommended by the tourist directory.

It only took five minutes for him to turn dead and indistinguishable.

you can go there and see, still, his charcoal outline, the brick wall.


Downcast, I head to the tanks at Queequeg's Fish Market. I put my temple to the glass to feel the lobster's weep.


On the first of August I think of the last and the next first of August.


The puppy days of May made her difficult to forget. Plausibly alive, I went out for a stray along the Grand Union Canal from Bethnal Green and up through the Lea Valley, remembering her whose various parts once posed variants on all my major chords.

I was like a romantic character.

To others considering the same walk, the same way: I assure you that her memory proves a satisfactory companion.


The city closed. Night spread into my windowpanes like dark liquor through branch water. I am inside often these days. There are the ghosts that go round

and then there is his. The hardwood floor has weakened with outer space. Naked, I lay down over the cold worlds obliterating behind other walls and other windows made from a breathless glass.


That dog, now gone, that gnawed now and then, on my leg--

what was he really after?


Oh, beautiful one, just so you know-- we have chained your mighty ghost at the edge of the green October sea.

We needed sleep, too.

Just so you know.


Later, we left your wake, a bit drunk, very sad and oddly horny, too, so, we returned to your grave and made love on top of it, you, on your mound. The sobs we had held fell from our arms. When we left we suffered two types of shivers.

Did we sin?

If yes, please add your words for us.


Late, late and I'm at the sky again.

Even the stars with names are frightening things.


November, I open my mouth to let your ash out.

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