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Since I have worked at the mueum I have published, and I have written 486 pems I have seen people drawing freehand maps of accuracy been talked to like they are pieces of dogshit I have seen shutters shuttered like windows in the face of so many wokers that all blinds have drawn into a darkness like an eclipse I have witnessed rosetta stone backpacks, launchboxes of the great wave I have seen prayer rug mousemats I have been a witness of Commerce I have been bystander to a five pound coffee M is Muster, the passing od You can get a sudden attack of nausea by staying too long in an art gallery as well It must be some kind of illness – museumitis – unknown to medical science Or could it be the air of death surrounding all things man-made, whether beautiful or ugly? (Gustav Heyrink) I have lists of people who were colleagues The rise of the Temporary work in our century, and I have one avowed to those who are trapped in the hotbed of sexual discrimination and harassment because if they complain, to those inculcated with the ones making the advances, they can lose their work immediately, and without reason Sweeps of the young like pograms, I remember them and make an effort to stay in touch To have Grigor in shadow of men, a lunaticuntil moonlit then, a dwarf of melody, a celestial harmony, some tiny child model perfection below, a debut in the untertow For not much How young fashion students? Seen too robed; roof of the Nile, ark of the covenant, baby hercule as asp, a thesp, a guided tour of softcore smeared all over faces to make the time pass, for it is boring work In the endless dead hours of a dead work the sevens go to the tens, the fives to sevens, and you find yourself chasing them physically to express to them against yourself a desire to not only be bored but to be with them, when you are aloud to be so And