Two Poems

by John Lowther

from Correspondences


I can't resist a magnanimous offer like that.
It ain't easy, but you have to work with the material.
It's really really horrible.
The very fact that we disagree brings warmth to my heart.
My philosophy professor recommended that I learn about sports so that I would
     have something to talk about with normal people.
What this taxonomy means, I don't know.
All that is left to do is bury my head under my knee and wait for the end.
Reading rosicrucial shit.
I don't know why you would come to that opinion.
Anyhow –I’m out of it– really dumbed down by the desert.
If it was intended only as verbatim reportage then in a sense it's even funnier.
The name comes out of thin air, but seems to fit.
A belt on the car is screeching like the proverbial banshee.
Your rude trimming is in fact terrific.


Asking about summer stock and choice cuts of botany.
It all started after I decided it was time for a return to the body.
Where have all the flowers gone?
That's where I think discussions actually operate.
It adds invisible exclamation points.
I have done nothing but write and translate, and when I finish what I have to do
     for the day, the last thing I feel like doing is writing or translating.
Sense of what, or why, is a different issue.
I go at it entirely in the dark.
Whitefish and kipper snacks with too much treble on off-balanced headphones.
And my friend and I looked at each other and went pale.
Please do.
Enough, this is not really pertinent, but it's an interesting periphery.
Nor am I trying to win.
I can sort of see your comment about that taking some of the fun out of it.

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