Tuesday, February 23, 2010

45*21

we all find our faults in the evening
the fire and that smoke smell
gets under your skin as you sleep
you feel like melting in the soil
and when you sing it is with the soil
with all your split personalities
you grow into one delightful joy
become the life of the party
it doesn't let you down
it doesn't let you go either
you to and fro from the loose tether
& you hope it's not the wolf tree
& you are some nazi kraut with the filth of home
in your mouth
it is another day
and you are the walrus
this is the part where I depart
and my departure will mean everything
and of course nothing
etc. etc. and so it goes
'til we rest with rocks

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