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.'