having eaten I am released
having eaten, I am released
type slower, more forcefully
fucker . . .
forget whatever airs we had
y'know I felt that the interest, to put it plainly, was there
later, after the revelation, it ceased to put out
that magnificent energy that a woman's gaze
-- in regards to the bed, shit's rickety and should
be scrapped for firewood
tell me, how much do you pay and how often do you pay for it?
if you slow down, you'd hear me whisper
the way Kevin did, my childhood friend
he'd say everything twice, once
he'd say it aloud, to you and I, the second time, in
almost deep reflection, to himself.
if there is no hunger here, I'd bid my farewell,
the walks were good, for the legs, and legs are connected,
as you know, through the networks of veins and arteries,
to the heart, which you know, is connected to the
brain which mysteriously lays it all out
like a rug slowly creeping under the leg of a couch
my brain too overlaps my heart, what data have you for me today?
why, it is almost absolutely necessary to tell the truth
I wouldn't know how to describe it otherwise
what frustrated me the most
was that I did not believe I would
ever inhale every bit
of yr room again
least I found the hidden compartment, like a bloodhound
I left my last memory as a mope
and trotted off, thinking of only writing
and reading it to myself, my own processes
but I thought to have felt free and robust
been keen enough all this time to know what is
the inspiration, without the call, the text,
the half laughs,
what content bounds away from my memory
unable to ever become a ghost on the next page
it appears rather so
I am a tower of purity
the thing nature made to make pictures of nature
I gather all my scientific training to the top of the
hill, half-raised, half in deep sadness,
in which alone can find most anything worth
dying -- it is connected to
it is a jump in this microscopic marriage of form
and imagination, unencumbered, gold.
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