4204. STEADFAST (#2)

STEADFAST (#2)

I may not have reached you and 
we may have both lost - that in itself

is a progression. Across such differences,
dichotomies dwell, and I am still (wishing to
be) yours forever. 'Like what else,' the hip
kid says, 'the brain has a foreign object    

and there is no best response  -  or at

least nothing the gauges can read or

detect.' Oh shut up and drink your

purloined coffee  -  Chimera Roast,

dark brown objectification.

Seance blend.

-

I went back to Philadelphia all battered

and worn. I was dying and had already

lost everything  -  words, photos, pictures,

ideas, dreams. Broken arms, twisted leg.

Not worth as much as spit in one of those

dangerous city cabs.  Outside the church,

more of those fools were being married -

purple hue'd dresses and organdy pleats.

Nursery room jewelry and dangling cleats.
Good intentions, and bouquets. Every

womb should be so clean as this.

-

It should never come with surprise, this

newer orgasm of Life  -  lineaments of desire,

and all that. My Blakean hat to your Lorna

Luft pussy, babe. 'Lo, to hear the chimney

sweeper's cry : whose little kid am I?'

-

I kicked a stump at St. John's Church.

I saw the broken lamplight window carriage

sliding down another cobble'd lane. One thing

after another, and what's come over you, brother?

I am in love now, with vainglory and power,

effusion and joy, glee and witness. No, no

not now, no  -  I cannot go on any longer,

though I am steadfast in place for you.