Reinhardt Sobye
Always it descends Lazarus’s cast iron shadow
No matter the shells, I in the meantime gather,
I find that each morning I rise neatly scooped
A well that mourns until it ceases to possess
The essence of its former relevance
I am always unhappy with my selves
All 33 of them, a new one for every year
And all of them vainly simultaneous
Poverty recognizes the exceptions
Those queer moments
When the sun triumphs but these
Are not the moments that define
If I am not wicked while I suffer
Then perhaps there is hope
Perhaps there is even free will
All around me wings hiss
Dirty feet shrieking in distress
Because they cannot leave
Cannot leave and I too am here
Though I never asked to be
And have at times pleaded otherwise
*
As you know I am dog-watching the plan is to go to the country and stay for a few days because I think it would just be nicer for her then being in this little apartment. Supposedly we’ll have internet there but if I should disappear for a few days you know why.
mindlovemisery 