Saturday, September 3, 2011
Fun But Not Salvational
We woke, we rated the day, and then stepped into it as lively as a pair of stuck up swans. Not everyone is so willing or so delicious. Oh look - another Frank O'Hara wearing his soul like a taxi on his sleeve. Another cigarette, another chipped mug of watered-down tea, another sigh from the ridiculous poor. Some fields around here are hayed twice but others just once. Bifurcate or else. I grew jealous at the word "binoculars." Or failed rather to understand a complicated social dynamic at a very young age. I made a bed for us, a nest, and it was nice but you never showed. It was a difficult summer in which to be a lilac. Down by the frog pond I spied my true love walking her way. Only minutes remain. He meant to say desire remains. Burgeoning self cures nothing at all. A Latin dictionary at a most difficult time was fun but not salvational. The buck froze between dark trees, as I froze in the trampled goldenrod, and thus time stopped. She thinks about him and it's enough because it has to be. The bible too. What a rhythm we've got going here! Back and forth, all the salient details.