You, Doctor Martin, walk
from breakfast to madness. Late August,
I speed through the antiseptic tunnel
I stand before the sea
and it rolls and rolls in its green blood
saying, 'Do not give up one god
for I have a handful.'
When I was a child
there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch.
All day she peered from her second story
from behi ...
who loves a woman
is forever young.
We sail out of season into on oyster-gray wind,
over a terrible hardness.
Where Dickens crossed with mal de mer
in twenty weeks or twenty days
despite the worms talking to
the mare’s hoof in the field;
Somebody who should have been born
Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
Since you ask, most days I cannot remember.
I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage.
Then the almost unnameable lust returns.
Live or die, but don't poison everything…
Well, death's been here
for a long time -