with the wind of which you are tired
with the old music box heart
with the penalty of heaven of which you are tired,
with hunger, with thirst.
insanity has blind children...
with the womb, when you are tired
with the sea that makes the train to your wedding days
with the lightning shakes, the snow-covered patio,
with blades, with fishing nets
madness preserves, sediments.
with poorly knotted tie, the yellowed neck
of flax of which you’re tired
with the stolen cotton flowers _ the blues whispers...
with megaphone on the open end of the days oh which you're tired
with the successful repetition of - the anything
lighting - to the usual surf.
the madness will imbues the slots of your gaze
with a flower liquor, with a french perfume ...
times are the times are
they were left time and time. lightning children-fish in the pews
rain in silence
temples will be erected forever, eternity’s temple...
wadding foundations. that everything is going
that that's the way, it is how, not gonna save you from
the silver fork
stealing is easier
that composing heroic verses, says snake. _
i agree_ i agree with the theft to
the moon rays, too
steal verses where you can, so. and the bread
for the ducks in the park, you. the husks for swine.
but before you go, wear the masks and show me your eyes.
let me see if i was right to trust not
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