poems by sebastian
Tomorrow is on his way...)
sebastian
Tea freckles come lately in the basement;
through masquerades of soup hands and tequila bones-
back in happiness,
they
wait for the metal brains to fall to their decaying closets;
While at wish's house
stay (in tomorrow's pantry)
or (yesterday's closet.)
: one is filled
with you
the other with
empty corners
Those birds that beauty grows
(one
is
at
my brain's forest
of she and her,,,
look i n g
for its
equi valent she and her
instant Light
( )
In any
UPstairs brain
death sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeps on the couch
while
time moves youth into a corner (between hope's lamp and happiness'
wind
ow
)
they keep you
down
s
t
a
irs: you watch
alittleTV with
now
Decay's breakfast:
entropy (waiting by the coffeepot): "I'm getting
your leftovers,
right?"
Life (smirks): "You've got
it
coming."
Chattering bites
broken by dissolving
toast
You (balcony of we) dissolve into
a plastic
man nequin
around the electricity of
o (here) t (there) h
e r s
(...shaking
shim my ing ) what am I to
say?"
basement of image
where
gimmick is left (in boxes)
but
just for a generation or two.
then it's carried
upstairs
and beauty
is puta w a y.
Discontent cougars of everywhere streets utter
their bellows and hollers:
"everything=nothing! and he doesn't
need her or
even
you! (shouts at
human
photographs)"
knows he is part
boasts "youaretoo"
Everybodything photographs
of paper
minds flash (!
t
e
a
r
s explodinginging in light.
the plastic vegetable breakfast
is on;
Mannequin-tokens
in the plastic back.
(I grow them) in machine gardens
Shall arsenic birds
squawk
from poison earth
b a l c o n i e s
?
sorryIreallymustbegoing
lovelypartythoughhadagreattimereallyIdid
givemybesttoyourhusbandandthekids
Every nothing has his lovers
his monks
his villains of ignorance
Some selfselfselfselves
become fleshed in idea dinners
(keep your mindelbows off the
table
, dear)
Sawdustbody you and ironthing me:
latent household
str uct ure
Hinges of instinct's
door creeeeeeeeeeak (blood doesn't grease
well)
as keen dogs enter
beside hunters
and bureaucrats of myth;
the cats and
villains s n e ak into thought's
flat through
the
window
the everynothing
pain(t)s
razors of
blackenedsilverandred
on my plasterwall mind
(the landlord won't
s
t
a
nd for it anymore
Dustbody in distant
money lands
never settles
beneath
one's (iyoume)
fe et
(wait
in the
rafters of
wealth's castle
in
stead )
Consciousness beasts of today
and recently
grind and
reply to
reality with
growls of
hope
irony
plastic silent vanity
god, keep the cage ready.
toy(ing) (with)
personality
the I-self tinkers
in
past shadows
and
rough pavement
and
scraped knees
in
fading rains
from
east to west
and
fragmented day
through
split blinds
on
sick days
or
in bedrooms
on
frighteningnormallonely nights
in
past flats
and
open doors;
Telephone
yesterday I
need clarifi
cation
on myself
Toy villains in backyard
conquests!of plastic
the war festivals
con tin (in) you
Time's room in everyland
houses of
everyland towns
and cities
keep the
old awake
the young at play
the middlebodies
longing
for one
and
dreading
the other.
but no one
can
find
the lock's key
and
the door is always
o pen.
Tears' basement:
hand
or
table
Light tokens
from
these black jail
lands
chase us
from fiction-bliss
.I hide (them) in my happiness pocket.
with enchantment dimes;
Rampant crows of
the mind areyou
, taking
flo
w
e
r
s from my grave .
fifteen year ((sssssssssssssssilence
endswith
more
bitter thoughts
figures in green
sunlight by dollar forests
frozen in
machine thought and
myth electricity
;
my fingers march
on
brokenmushroomedtrees with plastic and oil
((((((((godS
at
our
feet
Gray paint baths in simple
b a l c o n i e s
drag the city into love's
color
decay
, warmthpresence choked by sleepyselves dreaming
downstairs like time's mannequin
left unassembled (parts s c
att
e
r
e d
on the table
...
off off off into the metal country
to play a child's game
to keep the anger silent and
frozen in the air.
skygods gaaaaaaaaaaaze down in purple
quiet bliss at man
's distant iron logic
Ne noessonethingselfbody ity himest with herer anyn'ting, anded withd everyest me me me
Around around around around the
tears hole
with Wanda and everyonest we
hidden in decay kitchens in yesterday houses
.
approaches affection halls in dollar brains,,--,, so happiness cats
can s n e ak in
I laugh in silent crying with nothing
nothinging around me
relic girls are simply that
no time
no then
now is gone now is gone now is gone
where did then take it?
Odythingn't notbodying oneoneedselfer most meest untild by Iybody
Most fleshed you
I elude you you me
until ages pass
years die
time reveals you as mine mine mine
for enchantment and
ecstacy
.
might our nothingness stand
up with o t h e r s? ? ? ?
around--by--won'tyoulet
me?
Loll with you in dream forests
(photographic trees hang
l o
o
s
e and low
in morning moon ( ) light
and you
and you
and you
wait for mes of tomorrow
into lakes of roomy grace
to whisper "i am here
" to me
Gravel streets:
blood takes me
into
instinct's palace
"welcome
welcome
welcome
welcomegladyoucouldcome
"
everyyouthing whimpers in mercy gardens
with me in away-
minds ofyours
.
photographssssssss
ha n
g i n
g
on
from
the city ceilings
letting the towers
the fields of clouds
the sky the s k y
the s k y
... ... ... ... ... . . . .!through
not whispering "history"
or
"love's in the early years"
or
"hold her now she's there
before youwaiting"
they reflect
with the summermorningsun;
; anonymous black and white
(as
the we within them)
I,
locked in decaying
eternity
with you
are you
s t i ll
alone???
don't be that honest
your lies have dimension
to me
she closes
the factoryuniverse
and
i am left to
clean the floors
lock the doors
and waittilltomm
o r r o w.
will i be paid
with her beauty
or
laid off (with
distance)
?
there
is the
physical
, yessssss
but there is
far more within
you (than within
our
selfish galaxy
it is gawking at
the beauty
creatures
about
.)
I cannot bear to
live/to stay
here but
you have
your own
and one
for
me too
- (i pray)
Drawing light through
the bars
. like us
and
our prison
::::::::::
every room
filled with
Brokenme and Quietyou
My brain
approves ;
my mouth
waits
for instructions .
it means "
can
you
stay
with me ?
with yourself ?
with god
money
time
?"
but the dialogue
ends
and kisses dissolve
in
lostmoments .
There...
I left
you in bliss
didn't I?
that is
my doom
:
to spoil your
kind
delight
Dream and I'll
wait for your candy
eyes to drown
in the raininghouse
we adored from the
street but couldn't
live with in peace.
Dream and
I'll
keep the world
afloat in god's
bath.
Mannequin rite
where plastic is flesh
and neither mean
the same
for anybody
but the girls
from the sawdust town
upstairs from your stormy country.
they move
the parts for all to see in exclaiming
time.
broken feeling
exile
tragedy and bitterness
anonymity
love unrecognized:
the
poet grows stronger
Visitor!
are you a
friend
?
the distance
grows beneath our
feet
beneath our gardens
and bellows to the town
like a photographed explosion
in
an ancient attic
only we
refuse
to forget to surrender
I reach toward you
past the miles
past the years
past the me that made
glances (worthless)
past shadowsandcarnivals of glee
...
and hope your hands are empty
Know my gaze
it is yours
(for desire's inner
madness is mine
in
exchange
To Lauremir
Lauremir Visitor:
your name
speaks to me
noth ing...
I
dig nothing from my skull
's cabinet
of you
but your name, Lauremir the
fugitive
of words
and
a
smile.
Copper flowers kept
in
s u
n l i g
h t
on the window
sing to me, you
the burden of light
to those who
are within the brilliant
affair of sight
but cruises by
those in forever shadows
and
winks.
copper flowers capture
and
give back theirdays' catch
and we are left
to skin the remains
est
. what is
it?
Creature of image
and life and joyest you
(list
of you
sits in infinity
, waiting for
all the
mes)
, but not
without its
treacherous eternity
, and silent madness
, and readymade curiosity
Figure in
forest of frozen shadows
standing perfectlystill
she is
painting herself
into
eternity's framed
c a
n v
a s
.
may I--
could you
draw
me in too?
but! ! ! ! wear your
shadow gown
so
the forest shall tear into
us--dissolve
in shadow paint
Eyes: yours but if only on loan to me he she they will you ? and if not then what of our blind dimension and gray e motion?s
glimp s es
(of you)
are you aware?
keep silence for
the world
and me
and scream! your beauty
to noonebutyourself
but
may
I
listen?
may
I pry?
the measly
poet's words
of me
are not meant to harm
to terrify
to thank
unless they
are poised
away from
your balcony
of beautyhollers.
distant slowly-
grasping your infinity
through palaces
of
fiction
were
you
setting a bridge
of formulas and challenges
for me
to conquer
or scattering your myths
for
a sneak
attack
?
I will
wear my desire
as a kimono
and call my pursuit's
happiness beasts to
charge! your city of fiction
and formula
Light!
jagged universe
bursts into retreating dogs
! ... dissolving myths and
beauty
can't I request
the
gift
of her
v
o
i
c
e?
silence
Images
open
to the
universe's eyes
; towers of me and you and
shephotographs andthings
we have
dreamed
. Anybody everybody
requests a
look
but only
their yous mes and shes
areadmitted
but not with
out madnesses of
time'
s burden
Organic you
(the one away
from
those plasticselves
)
: that is the lady
no! the friend
I offer
myself to
every today and
am expected to be
my own organicself but
it is a comfortable exchange
(a bargain at that and one
I accept
but
w
i
l
l you
always do the
same?)
Nothing is
the same
with you but that
doesn't
imply
irregular ex
peri
ences
. no no never
I utter words
ofbliss
only
with
you
that makes the rambunctious
gardeniverse of ours
the irregular experience
nowdoesn
't
it?
dahlias for you in framed photographs framed in paint from infinity
's
bucket hang them in an innocent room
of yours
and leave them to decay as
your
delight explodes (in my face)
Downstairs I wait
do you grow still
? your freckled
skin...like noone I
have
h
e
l
d
since those todays
yesterday (in our
one shadow)I wait
still in a house
with no chairs or
balcony or books
only
a
te
le
ph
one )))))))))))
She exits through the photograph garden and from there to her remote castle away
from me and you but you are she and she you one but not the same you are her everybody else self but I don't bellow your name and expect the same shelterbody I chase the she you hold within will you admit me to her remote castle and leave return occassionally for all the others
,....?.
Did
I see
you just now
? retreating like a thought
? am I the only one who
needs to be near you
? May I
? nothing is fromhere tothere
between
us
. what are we doing in our away-
bal
con
ies
?
Forms
carried by reason are
but what they are
. But with truth
they are any everything!
! We charge them
! with our Iself essence
and the mind
's
journeys bring
them
madness and warmth
! That is open
fr e
e
jazz
!
I want you
to whisper the
answers
to all my only my
questions.
can
you
?
shall I utter them
shimmying
in delight,
dust never
settling
on you
or me
or on
the affectionate earth
?
all
I
ask :
my one question :
is this love
or a dream
tarnished by reality
and my
mistakes
?
can you defend
your
answer
?
Any you
will
do for
ever
any
self of yours
withHappiness painted on your skin
;
you are
whisp
ering
to me your light
bliss and I
or any
me will
lis
ten.
You you and brilliant
warm
secret
you
are
the journey
's
end
the bliss
to seek and that
I approach and
can
not
touch
can
not
speakwith
shall that bliss burst into love
's photographs
or fic
tio
n's bottled
r
e a
lit
yyyyyyyyyyy
?
strange key!
strange key!
what is there
for you to
open?every me
every she every
he all the
yous one could
show?I will
hang you
about
my
n e
c k
to hide from the hes and shes
of
my city
of glee and doom
, happiness and fiction
I will
w aaaaa ii t for the
she I elude, she I wish
to know and use
you
strange key! to sit
be
side
her and know her
where are you now ?
silent and on your
own ?
the silence must be kind
as
others are not
to you.
to me.
the test of anyself is to speak to
silence and have it screeeeeeeeeam
back from the shadows of exile
. Will you pass that
test or keep yourself
in a forever-void ?
she
saidYou were shy
sensitive
silent and hopeful
sweet and serious.
were you? Who did she
speak of in the yesterday-tense?
not of one who is shysensitivesilentand
hopefulsweetandserious here and now
yesterdays fresh and stale,
tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
as there is always one on its way...
I tell you the sensitive
the separate
the lurid me and you leave
behind
the
fiction,
the sober
sarcastic
cynicalme
who I am
and am not for you
for this me is the
one,tired and numb
, worn by overuse
that I refuse to be
for
those I promise truth
in a word
: you!
what will you have
of this me,the one
devoidof myth gimmick error and anxiety
over others?
pleasedo not leave it
leave me
here alone with all this
tawdry totality.
winter
which holds for me
a guide to
.. ... ... ... the brutal forest of
.. ... ... ... the void
to slither in is to reason like a beast
there is no home for creatures in
.. ... ... ... the void
I am I and am but one
winteryearns to march I to its
silent
forest of shadowy stealthy
self decay
(no space for a self
with those trees without
shelter).
the guide is torn as spring
talks winter into its very
own
.. ... ... ... void
.
I sit in my plastic chair
camera atop stale book of photograph
s; here I wait
for beauty to march in
from the gray winter lands but you never
arrive ,
never
fill my camera with warmth
a r
t
si
len
ced life,
loll beside me and
wa t ch this
book of photo
graphs
become one of thousands
To THE ENOLA GAY:
bursting forms
once
w
e
r e
menwomenhesandshes
floor teases the void, crumbles
mushrooming eye
in the opaque sky.
silenceis their only good
byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye
no last laugh no punchline no
Figureswatched through windows no whispers
no calls to friends no wondering alone
in silence no thinking for anyone
anyone
anyone
forest of broken shadows
on bridges
"I... "I... "I... "
.. ;
!the
!eye opens
.
Talking mouths with hands fingers
keeping time
street corners of Shadow City
--every city known
and forgotten--
are exploding flickering truths and
fictions we write with lips and little
smiles of self glee
nofigures with
out
devotion to motion
replied laughter and racing thought
notime to
catch infinity
wearejusttoofasttostop
and pause
loll or stroll
except
of course
when one figure loves
anoth er
then words dissolve to gestures
and photographs every today
whisper "slow
d o
w
n
Her generation is mine but
still
such sepa
r
a tion
she walks with the witches and scholars
I
with those...
thosegeniuses and
villains
those with
out belief or country
and
we watch one ano
ther and wish
to be not those we walk
laugh
live with
only to
be honest and (thus)
a
lone that is the force that drives
those at opposite ends of the
generation tug
of
WAR
....,.,..
I can see your magneticsmile in
my eyes'
c a b i
n e t
I can see your silent mouth
sleeping
over
that smile for years
I can see that head of
,youthful
lion's
hair
no disgraced decay dancing
over your grace
...
(time to lock up mine cabinet
at least,until
another tommorow
arrives)
love's all right but only on
your own
:: with her here
me apart--there--
there is
alwaysbliss,
bliss in distance.
girl
with her devotion to an
inte
lect
ual's beauty and (the silenced
universe in) w
o
r
d
s to soooooooooth
my howling hopping beastlymind
scholarly girl
whose wealth
of
winterless expressions
are more than enough
to satisfy a blind desire
for another day
another year
another tomorrow's home
coming.
time
has butter
fingers
With
you there
is only earth and wild
brilliant
rosy sky .
nothing
to whisper vessels of hate (we
know them
as words )
to and
worry over seek or fear
. magnetic sky:
stay
where you are to keepthings frozen for
you are
as important as she and I to
this country of sweet sweet
s o l i t u d e
(sp ac e f or you and I)
The
universe is not
a banquet of truth
but
a concert of dancing
Howling
grinding
lies .
but
within that f
e s t i
v a l
are
the wallflowers of beauty
and knowledge who raise
their glasses to no one
,except the extroverts Happiness
and
Reason
who laugh with the crowd
and know
they're the only magic in the room
where
have you gone ?
(memories
carry on the wi n d
but you
seem
to have
slipped
through
the
gutters
orfaded
into the
setting
sun's flower )
I
can not seem
to find you in all the lands
(of the mind) you
once loved
or learned to livewith
in peace.
did you
seek another in distant minds /
lands
?ah but
there you are in your home of
pillowed floors and
booksbooksbooks
waiting for
noone to interrupt
page 97
Lucy,
she wants her place
Lucy,
she wants her space
to grow and play
and be away
from herself.
Lucy,
she follows you
Lucy,
she loves you too
and needs to let you know
so she can go
home with pride.
Lucy,
she will stroll on
Lucy,
you want her gone
and she follows you
and swallows you
up into her bliss.
It's that whistle
in
your voice
it shimmies through
your mouth (like
youth through
our fingers )
into my pink ears.
no need for poets
(like me
and the sky)
when you are near. (except the
ones on the
gentle
night wind)
don't stop
saying those
sleepy
golden
sounds until
the clouds give out (or I go deaf).
You left me here
apart
away from you.
no burden of worry
no fear of contact with that which I
utter kindness to.
in time we shall return
to unity
to love's
eternity.
but that tomorrow is too
far down the road for me
to see
its gloryshadow.
The sky keeps
singing
to the beastly city who will not listen
or even sing back.
the garden replies.
the tree hears the song
and even knows the words.
the forest
and the field
have beautiful voices.
the city can hear
but
has chosen not to listen.
sebastian
Beauty's a rare beast
who mingles with the rugged
the ugly and tears holes in
their peaceful joy;
who slips in amongst its own
to dissolve in familiar shadows
and leave the wild behind.
Beauty ought to live alone
in a distant garden
and let the uglies and ruggeds admire,
and the beauties utter clucks of disgust
for beauty is a beast
best kept on its own
to allow the curious,
the envious,
to have no fear at all.
open spaces are for closed people
to touch heaven's pool and
EXPLODE in howls and tears of youth's
blissful misery.
The heavens do not listen
but only catch the noise and hold it
till death
for there's nothing beyond/within
the heavens with the time to hear
or even the ears of God.
but the spaces remain and the cries
still echo.
The delight in mystery
is gone. Knowledge has
spoken
and refuses to repeat
for even the educated.
time's moving on (death is too)
and leaving feeling
behind.
There are lights on
in empty rooms
in my mind's house,
where glee sits with philosophy
in peace.
where infinity is always lying about
across the couch
and in
pragmatism's way.
no silence for the tenants.
no silence for the landlord.
Song for Lucy II She runs from herself she hides from herself with a head of red and her youth near dead. but peace is on its way gets closer everyday so she'll wipe away her tears she's in her transit years. Lucy's on her own she listen to you moan whenever she comes near she's fighting off her fear but peace is on its way gets closer everyday so she'll wipe away her tears she's leaving the transit years.
let me waste my electric moments
with you. Truth
rides with Time and won't stop
for you or I.
where is there
for us to go
but forward?all my
electric moments are ready to burn
will you sit and watch them explode withme?
they are yours as well.
With a smile
exploding past your lips
you
hand me truth
kept in your thoughts (to keep it fresh)
and without a word
you sit
back and
slip back
into reality
the tears
bubble up from my blue eyes
carrying a secret world with them
only to strike
my hands and bleed across my fingers
and
return to anonymity.
I watch you leave (footsteps howling
in my skull)
and dissolve
with my tears
into nothing
along the horizon
Your mind's tower is climbed by the tawdry but they never reach the top no you can not let them there is far too much to keep and protect for yourself and your circle of friends with keys of course
Everyone
she knows she keeps in statelyignorance
to control
to tease with truth and joy from
philosophy's madness
there are those
she looks to for her statelyknowledge
who creep in and out of grace for the
sake of art and thought .
they drag her into
her own arrangment
but
apart from
totalignorance
There's a bath
in my brain where my thoughts
soak in fiction
between
bouts with reality.
There's a garden
within a forest in my mind
where I sit with all your beauty
your silent joy
and avoid tending
to my field of angst
(at least
for a time).
The heavens
are winking
(to let you know
they know
what it is you wonder
at night
on your own
in the darkness of your silence
)
Poem #100 Today has no time for us it passes by without a kind word without a sweet kiss without a shallow gaze giving nothing less than nothing: s i l e n c e tomorrow's in a hurry too not even here to say hello or gives us time to know his scent he is gone and we will follow
Fall Shallow pool below the balcony from which I fell: I wait (in midair) and ask you to break my fall and wonder what your reply will mean.
Alice retreats to her stale bedroom within her old and worn house her balcony overlooks the school next door it's separate from the institution of education it's empty of boys and girls in uniforms that never fit empty of professionals in suits and dresses that seldom fit their manners empty of scholars thinking in jaded intellectual tongues and chasing dead poets empty of artists toiling empty of janitors sweeping
empty Alice thought from her stale and private bedroom
empty and yet so full
I hope summer never comes
skinny James ,
sitting in the grass
that's
hissing at his bare legs
giving all the world's truth away
in a beautiful
unknown tongue ,
sells his fictions
to the boys and girls he knows who
are all lolling
in
summer's greenjoy
the days are passingandpiling up
but skinny James is still at work
typing
writing
carving love and doom ,
discontent and ecstaglee
into oblivious stones and furious dirt
; the boys and girls
watch and wait
for another page to fly from his hands
so they
may
swallow it whole
and not have to pay a dime.
but his pages
they lollinglycome to know,
are filled
with nothingbut
the green words
of thegreen grass
passed on
by the solemnwind
.
think of the truth
they left in their lollinglife along the grass
while waiting for skinny James
and his
white sheetsofnothing
.think of it all!all the words
all the words left to the air
How many
m i l e s
between you
and your kindness?
How long
Will it be
before it's in your sig ht?
I saw you there,
along
t
he
ro
ad,
stoppingfor a bite
but
you never came out
(sleeping on white hotel sheets)
before the new sun was born .
What are you waiting for?it's just up the road
or will the deadlybitter days pass like breezes?
you're going to let them,
let your kindness die and decay!
what's in it for you ,
anyway?
only peaceofmind
andhappiness--
no,
nothing at all for you
.
I left the monks for the witches who sleep with the night as if he were a lover. I left the bureaucrats for the anarchists who know their idealism's a joke but fight anyway. I left my lovers for my friends who ask only for my company --and a kind word. I left the hunters for the poets who hide a sharp knife within their wistful words. I left them all and though the world's stillending, I am now feeling fine.
The night's going to lie about
for a while.
Can you wait for me
at home?
I will be along.
Let me sit with her
maybe whisper a song
(or two)
into her darkandspeckled ears.
Can't I stay ?
just a while ?
Can't I let you go ?
so I can be alone ?
with her hollow warmth ?
before my body ?
brings down the curtain ?
just wait
just
you
wait
I'll be
along.
Something's on it's way.
It's leaving the masters of fate
behind
to deliver the evils
or
the spoils
or maybejust
the punchline
to this joke we don't get.
Something's on it's way
for us and only we
will see what it carries
--for better or worse--
and maybeeven
understand it
unlike all the rest
that passes like breaths
between you and I.
Something's on it's way.
It's on the wind
It's in your eyes
It's floating
at the bottom of your teacup,
waiting
for maybejust
an open moment
,
a silent hour
,
a day when nothing
seems right at all
like all the rest
we let tear through our brains.
Something's on it's way.
And at the moment,
that seems okay; to break the mood
or evenjust
kill
these deathly old days dead.
The joke of love:
it has no punchline;
it goes on like your sad old uncle
waiting for someone
to cut him off.
The road of love:
it's long and winding;
it's caked with dirt
and filled with potholes
(just enough to drive you mad.)
The house of love:
it's a fixer-upper;
its got cracks and broken faucets
and your neighbors
they yell all night.
The poem of love:
it rambles on;
it fills the page and fills the void
but leaves out all
that juicy stuff.
Maybe I will just dissolve.
Or maybe the night will die before me.
Maybe she won't notice what we've done.
Or maybe she'll hate me for it.
Maybe the music will carry us.
Or maybe drop us off outside the town.
Maybe I'm wrong all the time.
Or maybe you just don't listen.
Maybe it's time to go.
Or maybe the tears will just stop.
Maybe I should shut up.
Or have you shut me out already?
At the bottom
of my white, coldandfrozen lake
is a heart
that's lost the rhythm.
I want to help
help get it back,
but I can't dive
down that deep.
If I want to see you, all I have to do is shut my blue eyes.
I'll build a house
where you can stay
your boy's a louse;
I'll keep him away
When you get cold I'll
buy you a coat.
if you need a lift I'll
buy you a boat.
It's a labor that lasts
night and day.
but it's worth it all
if it keeps you away.
everything else is urgent. 5 hours away. it works
to our advantage. but
with receivers in their cradles...
I dreamed I was brilliant and she was
a common thief.
an ambulance and
a corpse
is the only ending I might have
stayed asleep for.
but instead things worked out
while I was awake.
I've never parted ways
with the east coast
before. maybe next week
I will
write a letter or take
that hellish ride.
5 hours
turns
to 3
to none.
the receivers are still
and the night has cut the silence.
sebastian (back!)