| white birds at night |
[10 Feb 2006|11:10pm] |
napkins haunt me as the spill begins,
& inend, make
cranes of them
selves in eff(igy
or eff)ort. as for
ward is measured,
spoken oft
en of, cal
culated up
on, &(/or) end
eavored to
ward - we may be
come carto
graphers, yet! for
get the sound of
frames, the slowing
collapse of yester
days' always. never
mind the break &
the mess what to
morrow may fix on
ly by the action of
its Is !ha
not else sees so
much sense in it
self. we wait for
hunger to take
hold, wait for choice
to open & rivers'
spill or rejoicing. so:
i'm cheatin
g, now. & my thought
life has well enou
gh usurped my
actuallife now -
what've i left to talk
about except how love
ly i look in all white.
..& laugh at how fun
nily life carries its
elf into the future;
a comic malady
which aff
ects every
body & leaves lit
tle room with which
to ask for any
thing more than
sustenance.
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