Wednesday, March 20, 2013

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.

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