The Mill Again, Sure

Excellent session at the mill as here we are
copying, copying the sociology of abstract ontology, sick
of thick openings between Sundays on settees
of feather. If only there was dust! To counter
the noise from backstage there have been interrogations
by bystanders standing sideways stupidly singing
old melodies of maladaptations, which means I caught
more on to the fact, that I am, in fact
a good worker—efficient—studious: why

would I study anything? I am so mixed up: what if…
what if the maids?! Sundays on settees are too much
for flat notes. Sharp, sharp major lessons
are missed. Get them out of there now!
Impatient, you sit on your hands and do it yourself.
I didn’t want to be rude or unclear for the audience,
so we decided against the initial
shouting from the rafters and opted for a calm
and safe textbook, from which we hope not to test.