Prose poem/moving target

Vermont. Have you missed her? Have you missed her one bit? Sometimes she calls and you are sick when she calls you are sick you are sick. You could take her out apple picking but there are already old apple trees from the farms that were her property on it. You could take her to the museums but she has that at home.
At five or six he was Already Considered A Sociopath there was very bad deevee in the home tho she got out but at that point lots of damage had been done. Hey buddy can you spare something hey man I’m talking to you.
Two. Two makeshifts, in the barn or — no, not barn but above the coop (barn: empty space that once had living things that’s — the definition he’s the definition yes) one: is cardboard on cardboard, painted. Another is a scene of wood with little plastic men in it. The young art collector buys, the work is too cheap.
I wanted to kill you. I wanted to hold your head underneath frozen water and kill you. I did, I did. You threw up creamed corn you’d eaten at my birthday party upon rising like a popped zit, I rang your neck like a little butler bell, Noam, I wanted to kill you in a homosexual way. I’m sorry, now, that I tried to manslaughter those two women, I’m sorry it was in a heterosexual way, Noam, it, should’ve been you. Nowadays I paint photographs of goats.
He goes to the art gallery in Boston. Want to sell his art but he says no because the price would be too high. He comes home to his wife and their house they do not own and their store they do not own though they will own the house, yet. He loves his friends, he loves his wife. The art is very good and mostly done in crayon.
The dirt trail, grotesque mud even in June (even when it does not flood) where, in your car, I doublefisted your two breasts while kissing one and lathed my tongue around it. Also a house party also a flood and a shooting the running from the cops. Mattress on civil war floorboards (farms set on fire, exiles in Canada) where I gave you a blowjob. You are two different women.
Artist once known or known by some: glass dollhouse. Shot in the head or side repeatedly outside the high school: unloaded gun, in hand.
Alaska + Wisconsin + Westmass equation but seeable more when that’s where you’re from or where the people that you love have gone.
Some would prostitute our country. Some succeeded. Often it was good for the character. We were once a country. There was a time when we hanged educated men from the signs leering over bars.
Barn (barn: barn of the body: hollow man). Yeah wooo hoo (pig) noises!!! THE DEVIL
We saw (I saw) for the first time a bear near my house it had: uprooted the neighbors’ trash and made a conical mound a couple feet wide maybe a foot high erected this; in the center of the road and bounded away, young bear cornering my writing teacher his mother watching two lance-eyed like porcupines in the trees: leprosy fruit.
Out on the one big street where they shove out people with bus tickets — or used to before the hotel vouchers — I thought about kissing her. We used to sterilize people, often enough.
Lol Hitler could learn something, from
Mark Johnson, dead at sixty-two, not a neighbor but close in a town so, dead (bridge leading out towards the state highway and to the worse bakery) by a man, Chad Bean, Johnson running, allegedly, but not from anyone, with a toy gun, and his hands were calloused, his eyes tired, many years ago they took a name off a building: some: where clean buildings where they finished off the retarded but there are crumbs of dead men that move and that keep the jobs moving. Trimmed man with the flat face — ears splayed on the sides of his face in a warning display. Nothing IN HIM for a bullet to vacate.
After the flood whole towns were made into dust. There were pastures once houses sailed through them weeping. Arrow splitting the sailor’s head in two cast him over cast him over New York set no (not =) yet so: happy Lake Champlain =) =) =)