Take the past and chuck it. Not your withstanding
load any more. When you bend to erase that chunk
of time you've lived, be sure not to miss the mark :
damask curtains and inkwells, candlelight and an
unmarked void wherein the horses can plummet.
Falling, falling, falling, once more we are lost.
Here are the five things I've noticed: the world is
dank and dreary, but under each rock is a tunnel
of love; there are no more turns at the last roundup;
nothing ever goes the way it is not planned; my last
miracle of the home-based midden-watchers was
to see a baby born; I am nothing without all these
words and concepts. Oh then, all right, let me throw
in one other : I will not, my jet will not, fly, until that
day that Atlanta joins Dallas in accepting joint flight -
flights where the hearts may soar, and the wings may
fly, and the eyes, the eyes, the secret eyes, can
watch each brand new Heaven develop.