LIGHT IN EARLY MORNING :
PALE GOLD, Part Two
"I somehow still live, for now, here,
in a body now unkempt and without
any style - a twentieth-century anachronism
in a turning, crazy world made of newer gems:
The Lang Company, Mont Batier Clothing and
Home, Espandre's Animal House and Garden
Goods Limited. All the token shit of new jungle
living. 'We have cheese, now, in our golf steaks
and ridgeline purees.'
-
It's nothing more than fancy; a fancy
not imaginable, yet real. The moon, like
an oaf, gives solace to those who, in
passing, anyone, would want it. It keeps,
as well, a schedule for those who would
care - where it will be, when, waxed or
waned, broken or full. Like some
oh-most-regular fiery kin of comfort.
And we, we fall for nothing as we
fall for everything and all.
-
Marginal scouts, and marginal scat.
'I love you for your shit, your knotted
head, you strange brown hair, your
Dorset-coast freckly skin in Summer,
the fucked-up blue of your eyes - and,
yes - even the way you sometimes
sit, scrunched up, to cry."
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