madpoetry
Sometimes poetry people are so sweet I want to cry: see this: the response came almost instantaneously:

Usually I am there around now, but this year I didn't go to Madrid. I typed it out for you. My favorite line is

the clean fart genital enthusiastic toe prick album serious evening flames

***

Leaving the Atocha Station

The arctic honey blabbed over the report causing darkness
And pulling us out of there experiencing it
he meanwhile... And the fried bats they sell there
dropping from sticks, so that the menace of your prayer folds...
Other people . . . flash
the garden are you boning
and defunct covering. . . Blind dog expressed royalties. . .
comfort of your perfect tar grams nuclear world bank tulip
Favorable to near the night pin
lading formaldehyde. the table torn from you
Suddenly and we are close
Mouthing the root when you think
generator homes enjoy leered


The worn stool blazing pigeons from the roof
driving tractor to squash
Leaving the Atocha Station steel
infected bumps the screws
everywhere wells
abolished top ill-lit
scarecrow falls Time, progress and good sense
strike of shopkeepers dark blood
no forest you can name drunk scrolls
the completely new Italian hair. . .
Baby. . . ice falling off the port
The centennial Before we can

old eat
members with their chins
so high up rats
relaxing the cruel discussion
suds the painted corners
white most aerial
garment crow
and when the region took us back
the person left us like birds
it was fuzz on the passing light
over disgusted heads, far into amnesiac
permanent house depot amounts he can
decrepit mayor. . . exalting flea
for that we turn around
experiencing it is not to go into
the epileptic prank forcing bar
to borrow out onto tide-exposed fells
over her morsel, she chasing you
and the revenge he'd get
establshing the vultural over
rural area cough protection
murdering quintet. Air pollution terminal
the clean fart genital enthusiastic toe prick album serious evening flames
the lake over your hold personality
lightened . . . roar
You are freed
including barrels
head of the swan forestry
the night and stars fork
that is, he said
and rushing under the hoops of
equations probable
absolute mush the right
entity chain store sewer opened their books
The flood dragged you
I coughed to the window
last month: juice, earlier
like the slacks to be declining
the peaches more
fist
sprung expecting the cattle
false loam imports
next time around


-----Original Message-----
From: Susan Schultz [mailto:sschultz@hawaii.edu]
Sent: Mon 7/11/2005 1:27 PM
To: Mayhew, Jonathan E
Cc:
Subject: ashbery in madrid

Dear Jonathan--greetings from Madrid. I went to the Atocha Station, so
that I could leave it. I love it. But I do not have my books with me
and found only a small section of the poem on your blog, via google. Do
you by chance have the poem entire in your computer somewhere that you
could send so I could share with my students here?
What a wonderful city.
Please send some Spanish language with you too.
Hope you are well.
aloha, Susan