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My childhood-was in St. Paul, a neighborhood

where sunlit lilacs were growing-

pink and crimson red. My juvenile person at seventeen

(on this celestial body earth, of paving material and cement)

I say one and only a piece of my life, concede me...not sure

where it went.

I was recovered by heaps women, to be a territory for them

cupid of the vicinity , support then.

I am restful and dwell in a profound drum

a imagination of a percussive instrument (some say):

I warmth charm in all forms, even achromatic roses-

and blueish jays and wan dish beside capon floating
on top.

I disfavor lazy or raw brass. In my status I listen

for echoes, from the open-air of the global.

Today at the café, the man decussate from me-

staring and writing, achromatic hair, dull glasses,

under an umbrella, (perhaps gay)

is howling on the inside his skin, for a friend, to look

mysterious for him-, he had a statement to give, and

I didn't return it...!

Men by themselves hope

to agree as gods someday, maybe to be one, or

looked upon as, so it seems at the end

they take off the international with half-size or nothing,

but a rework of cloths and hat, possibly a

mattress and bed....

And when comes the day, our craft comes in, to take

us distant...never to return, we're all naked again!

Comments: The full flamboyant commercial of aware and our bodies and minds collapsing after time, is written, and memorized wide inside us, in attendance is incident for everything it has been said, under the sun, but close will not get it done, we essential run with the wind to plague all the gaps in our essence and minds. Thus, a expeditious examination, a profile, if you please, is needful today, or so I feel, and now you got it.

#1680 2-6-2007