A highly emotional man

So many anxious ordinary obvious pieces
Pieces of flesh
Of skin
Of the scalding touch of incident
Of cause of loss of death of other peoples love of your heart colliding with the trees outside your home of the sound of the songs your soul wanted to hear
Murmuring in the foliage as the night wind took the lights and turned them to blind dust
So many of these little scalps these infinitesimal droplets underneath the back of the head
The sweat the rain the water the dread the dancing dead the lightening between the rolls of flesh the beautiful sundown flowing softly out of the windows of my car the music playing on killing a few bugs and hiding shadows long scaly and bony in its arms
The running the escape the home the little bed the tender glow rising like flakes the streets hold on to tightly the home
your hands the passage the turning the silence in the grass as you are going along the silence on the faces of the buildings the conversation that the darkness holds between us
The night and the strange insistence of dawn
As rabid as our hearts as foetid and tired as you must be
fighting the long exhausting battle for the hearth
as tired as I must be
A highly emotional man, struggling with self-confidence and direction
to find the galaxy of people and dolls under the neon sky -

It must be endurance it must be the appalling dance of the human civilization and the blanched spirit that carries the moldy story through.

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