Saturday, October 15, 2016

8749. AND OH THINGS THAT ARE FADING

AND OH THE THINGS 
THAT ARE FADING
All this is getting so sad. There's a mast to the
mizzen ahead - we must bow and keep sanity
brewing on ice. Let me read the list of little
men :  the blowhard, the official crier, the
man with whitened hands, the few who've
never worked. Enough of that for now.
-
I go away to visit. I go to Westbeth. I sit on
the bench made for me. I look to the west;
seeing nothing except what I am waiting
for. Two quibbling lovers come by, entwined
by tongues and arms. I want to gently say : 
'Isn't it a bit early for that?', but then I 
realize I really don't know the time.

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