LOVE IN A SACK
So many meanings, in this night : pipes clattering
for the first time this season. Autumnal moments.
No matter where I turn, there really is an apparition
before me. The 17th street marksman still sleeps.
-
A guidebook to this terrain is fearsome - something
as written by a Freud or a Jung. I can't make matters
simple any longer. There's a pen in my ear and a
heart in my mouth. Oh, Mama, oh.
-
What happens to a returning fugitive, a soulful
wanderer who sits in the park : all days are the same,
the birds will proclaim. Lethargic, gray, and dark.
-
My intentions were never to last this long : find love
and peace, and abscond and be gone.
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