Burning and velleity the sad part Cleansing dives without a reason Three quarters of an hour It was the same image Idle along when dreaming, Then want a palace in the garden And a heart ages old What heals all now Adhere to the Word It would have been fine If something real had happened
.....Psyche...... Where are your selves laid Nineteen for the chronicle (Honorable / Poetaster is an old song title) Those things on my grave were not alone It was deepened that autumn
Let the florescence turn brighter With a peace and chrysanthemums found Venetian blinds did cut the sight On the horizon of March Dear, I was still in a feverish realm Looking at its brim But I've come to hold your hand The need again graciously The time is different, Don't transcend in the bus For the hotbed and the wine now bottled I'm so damn glad I'm here and sane