I’ll copy Creeley singing to Wieners or it could be vice versa.
Both old masters
Who never spoke for backwoods, briars, chaparral.
Not equipped 



To weep.

Who is? 



— here you are on a brassiere stool overlooking time is money plaza,
Neither you or I could express feelings about delimiting botanical time.
That everything once alive is precious; time is priced high as it’s an art space.
That “Having no space to spare” comes off as counterfactual in a pas
De deux we do apart
— slipping on pieces of tracing paper after ballet
Making a racket
Even as we withdraw from thickets of saying nothing, the wicked deep.