Yeats, Parties, and Variants on Chess

i walked past space ship lighted parties
on my way back from the woodshop
last night.
dylan read me Yeats
and i read him emails.
while i sip cognac and coffee
in intermittent arcs
like grasshoppers.

Willson and i used to play
chess, backwards,
while reading aloud from seperate books.
then stop to make our next 2 moves
while we quizzed each other.
the books
we'd saved from dumpsters,
and I cannot remember what any
one contained, except for one on submarines.

parties aren't my thing.
I like the morning still
too much to sleep through it.
and US college dorm hallways
have nothing to them
that i want added to my life.

Dear Houseblend,
sometimes I wish we'd fall in love.
but I live for the mornings,
and dislike most punk-music,
and love cannot be forced,
or coaxed, or hid
and since we cannot choose. . .
let's throw stones
 into the calm of the lake
from the edge of Innisfree
and laugh at how the moon
looks like one large freckle.

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