Thursday, January 17, 2013

4079. I TOOK IT ALL THROUGH TO CARRY IT AROUND

I TOOK IT ALL THROUGH 
TO CARRY IT AROUND
(amalgamated fourth fugue for Delmore)
'My life is pretty good and I don't know
why, except effort. I've got stuff everywhere,
and my pockets seem always full of money.
Emphasis on 'seem', 'cause I don't always know
if it's mine or someone else's, on loan from
some bank or something  -  though I don't
care, because it's really all the same.'
-
This life is not an ending, just an is  -  and I
must be both alienated and indestructible
together. I am dedicated, and I survive.
(There's no ice cream in the freezer either,
big boy you're now on your own)...
-
On a sandy, topside bluff they said 'this hill
was an old Methodist prayer meeting camp.'
I stand looking out, over both water and land :
ruined marshes, brushy grass, sand and salt.
Nothing seems moving, and nothing will last.
A place called 'Toms River' must be like that,
has to  -  living on past its old station.
-
And someone deserves only this : there is
'lonely town' playing, and I ply the raging waters
alone. I have my rights, like some guy who talks
too much with his hands, some Italian baker, or
a Jew about money  -  loud, lugubrious, tiresome,
unending, lurid, lush, frantic and freely; though
all these things with suspicion. Yes, God, I
love it all  -  like looking at women all day.
Just again, this morning, someone asked me:
'Has anyone told you you're a crazy man?'
-
'I'll kiss you wherever you think you're poor,
wherever you shudder, feeling tiny or skinny,
striped or barred, feeling you are
bloodless, cheerless, or marred.'

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