Poem

Walking the line of propriety where memory fails

The plan I made takes on air and

And I had a dream about you last night!

We sing from one great silence

Pleasure's woe beginning

When to the silent generosities

Amidst a rather tendentious dream in which

The angry hands of God

For us all the sepulchers hush

If we ever make it back to California

As aspiration and regret

No matter that my all is here

O if we but knew what we do

Hope is twelve hours down the road

But how can we care if anybody gets it?

How we fly in quiet mouths

The submerged temples

Yetbutaswell

Behind where where was a where was a place?

And have given us a soul

We sleep in a temple all the gods avoid

The subject is reciprocal

It is almost