NO CLAMOR
I've grown accustomed to minding
my ways : or, like the Japanese kid
with no idea of Halloween, standing
idly by in doorways and costumes.
Why? How? Where am I now?
-
Little matter the fruits of the day:
We go to school standing, but sit
all day. Is that the way to learn?
-
It gets more and more narrow as I
pass along the edge; knowing I have
little time left. My face grows distorted,
but I'll not even fix my appearance for
this disappearance. How rude the
noise of the crowd.
-
No clamor like this again, thank you.
Though we all must die, I don't look
upon it as anything good.
-
The man walked over to me, saying:
'You certainly have ways of twisting
words, and the things you say are so
often difficult to grasp.' My reply,
after I thought about it for a bit?
'Full fathom five thy father lies.
of his bones are coral made. Those
are pearls that were his eyes'... and
nothing of him doth fade?
-
With my twist of ineptitude I left out
the last. We go to school standing, but
sit all day. Is that any way to learn of the
past? No clamor worth mugging, and
and no task worth the mission.
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