i am writing and writing in secrety slippery solitude about the sweet slithering
smoke of
smoke

the smoke of smoke
oh federman write a poem about that
the smoke of smoke
i just thought of that
the smoke given off by burning smoke
the vapors and pollutants of vapors and pollutants
oh write about that for me
federman
write about the smoke of smoke
a beautiful poem in french that can
never be translated
other languages are false in this poem
it will break if you try to paraphrase it
it is glass, an ice sculpture
the poem you will write for me
federman
about the smoke of smoke

unless we can get Auster to translate it
maybe Auster will translate it

and when you write the poem in French
about the smoke of smoke
i will publish it on airplanes
on clouds
on the foreskins of newborn gentiles
on light
on smoke
on the smoke of smoke
a poem about the smoke given off by burning smoke
in french
published on the actual smoke given off by burning smoke
it is then no longer a metaphor
perhaps it is not a poem
perhaps this is text art concept
art performance art
or simply smoke, not artifice
inasmuch as smoke given off by burning
smoke is natural
i could really go for a sandwich

fuckit Federman
forget smoke let's eat
the sandwich of sandwiches!
a sandwich composed of sandwiches
layered between two large slices of
bread

french
bread

and coleslaw of coleslaw

millions we'll
make millions

of sandwiches

i can taste it now federman