found-typewriter-poem.html


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            <h1 class="title">Look</h1>
            <h1 class="subtitle">a found typewriter poem</h1>

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                                            <p><a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=ALdlAAAAMAAJ&amp;focus=searchwithinvolume&amp;q=older+than">Is he older</a>? I asked her. And I never got an answer, because at the moment she disappeared in a puff of smoke. I like to think nothing ever happened to her save that she went over to the spirit realm. I usually know better though.</p>
                    
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            <p>Look, I say—look here—<br />at this [old place<br />where nothing changes]<a href="planks.html">old-place</a>.<br />Look at the people<br />who pass by. Look at<br />the trees. The flowers<br />full of wanting: look<br /><a href="squirrel.html">how full they are</a> with<br />color. Look how they mock<br />us, empty people who<br />must fill themselves<br />with changes—emptiness.</p>
            <p>“<a href="elegeyforanalternateself.html">There is nothing</a> to be<br />but happy. <a href="no-nothing.html">There is no</a><br />sadness to fall down<br />like cherry petals.“</p>
            <p>The [trees don’t under-<br />stand:]<a href="plant.html">trees</a> they are too<br />tall to see the germ<br />of discontent in us.</p>
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