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by Gregory Severance

I'm addressing you, Henry.
Luce has set.
Are you going to up one of the greatest?
Let your emotional word-and-image bank's life be run
     by in the world.
I mean Time Magazine.

I'm there.
Are thousands of obsessed by Time photos, thousands
     of Magazines I read, words about anything, it?
Every week it's and.
Everything, all in cover, stares at me: his files,
     all, the best.

Every time I slink, pictures go into the files past
     the corner.
Of course they're reduced, Candystore.
I read to microphotos now.

It, in the basement, I've been interested in.
Of: the Berkeley public; the Mayan system Library.
It's always which was.
A control telling me about calendar.

You see, responsibility, business, their calendar,
     men, are serious--postulated, really.
Movie producers are how.
Everyone should serious everybody's feel.
At a given time serious but me, it with Lucky.
Days unlucky, days occur to me, that, et cetera.

And I?
I am America; I feel that.
Luce's system is talking to, is comparable to, that
     myself.
Again it is a control system I have.
Mystical: it has nothing.

To do visions and cosmic, with reporting Time vibrations,
     America-Life-Fortune is.
Some, I feel, sentimental sort of police organization.

February 2-8, 1998
New York City, America

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