(no subject)

Our rest is in ecstasy only. What is rest for but to gather new energy? We have experienced that state where all gathers itself anew while still happening, the more happening the more gathered. Even sleep is no leash, but a change of direction, on those nights. Even stillness and silence just flowings of all different clamoring things one direction at once. High summer young nights of the mind in December at noon.

(no subject)

A job, a marriage, babies and an optional affair;
Then not long till the moment when the scratching hand finds air.

The bouncing ball that leads from place to place
Suggests just tiny touchups for the place behind your face.

Sex does the strangest things to time
It makes it into space
The done thing's what was done before
It's one step wins the race
Defeating a revolving door
With Ariadne's lace
These scuffled in the rounds reclime
And thus refresh the place
The further on you go
The further in you are
Though still just half a hand or so
In half of a parked car
Do pardon my vulgarity
And possibly temerity
I say with all sincerity
My point though not a rarity
And not expressed with clarity
'S just that in circularity
One sometimes finds alterity
And passion past all parity
For if a man should dare it he
Might mount to verge of verity
And make of very air a tea
Organic but not carroty
Alive and yet not ferrety
If Browningy not Barretty
His tank no longer there at E
Just F he gets my narratee
Fond friendly familiarity
Yea there where unaware o't he
Has passed past and posterity
To galleries not garrety
Awash with hot hilarity.