stalls
on
mucilage
tracks
before
he
gets
to
Constantinople
while
the
one
documented
conjunction
of
Jeffers
and
Steinbeck
that
could
have
affected
the
spin
of
California
literature
ends
inconclusively
lost
in
the
annals
of
myth.
What
time
did
you
get
in
last
night
and
who
were
you
with?
The
Lamborghini
glistens
in
your
driveway
houseboat
twisting
clockwise
270
degrees
in
bay
wind
then
countercloc kwise
like
a
silly
pendulum
and
the
batter
becomes
agitated
when
a
pitch
sails
high
and
tight
almost
hitting
his
chin
yet
Little
Lulu
I
love
you
all
the
same.
Mighty
Mouse
on
the
way
if
you
take
into
account
the
contesting
choices
a
Ouija
board
voices
and
chessmen
expend.
Clowns,
hemophiliacs,
robotic
arms,
dust-‐clad
air,
tulips
shod
with
ovations
so
you
wanted
to
see
what
would
happen
when
the
death
mask
was
fitted
while
you
wiggled
in
a
stuffy
coffin
and
gazed
at
the
heavens
from
a
camera
obscura
that
made
history
swell
like
a
soaked
sponge
then
chased
pain
down
a
cameo
path
to
blissful
Heliopolis
and
a
fond
acquaintance
comes
to
the
rescue
when
he
suggests
you
meet
at
Sather
Gate
in
Berkeley
so
as
to
go
watch
the
Golden
Bears
maul
those
menacing
Huskies.
20