ONE OR TWO GHOSTS FOR ONE OR TWO LINES
                                    
                                   by
                                    
                                 TAN LIN
                                    
               Postmodern Culture v.4 n.2 (January, 1994)
                           pmc@unity.ncsu.edu
                                    
     Copyright (c) 1994 by Tan Lin, all rights reserved. 
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     University Press.



                                   tall blank zebras appear


                         A

To care. The aerogramme made a lily of necessity,
stumped box, redolence ribboned far off in the glass
cities I opened and closed to the dandy
drawers. A colt emerged on a clotted pansy. A pan
required fanning.  This repose a thread files.
Inside the spitting rope sweeps
like a foppish knot or lighthouse,
a beam where the sun withers like snow
in its box of jewels.  Like a towel-like now.


                                   tiny broom zippers boxed


                         Z

Light as a ruler, I knitted the whiffing train to coverlet.
Dark, I had my lips.  They travel apart when I kiss.
Exonerated groove.  The captioned stock box
waved to the master's bedroom.
Clacked suds.  All flaking tide and shout
was music walking out a headlamp.
Engined isthmus, emerged track of levels, it could be
nice.  The pubescent birdie sleeps
in a closed head.  So,
it knows or it knows.
A crumb held out a mighty
citron in a beak, screwed backwards.
But no ox sniffled to an owl
or stockinged box strum through bedroom.