The piers are pummelled by the waves; In a lonely field the rain Lashes an abandoned train; Outlaws fill the mountain caves.
Fantastic grow the evening gowns; Agents of the Fisc pursue Absconding tax-defaulters through The sewers of provincial towns.
Private rites of magic send The temple prostitutes to sleep; All the literati keep An imaginary friend.
Cerebrotonic Cato may Extol the Ancient Disciplines, But the muscle-bound Marines Mutiny for food and pay.
Caesar's double-bed is warm As an unimportant clerk Writes I DO NOT LIKE MY WORK On a pink official form.
Unendowed with wealth or pity, Little birds with scarlet legs, Sitting on their speckled eggs, Eye each flu-infected city.
Altogether elsewhere, vast Herds of reindeer move across Miles and miles of golden moss, Silently and very fast.
— W.H. Auden
in more ways than one have i succeeded at that which i have sought to do. it is then, or simply should it be, apparent, that i will universally fail at that which i do not seek to do?
i have found my true love, without seeking.
i have sung a song, with much seeking.
i have triumphed, with no modicum of shame or amazement, at financial mismanagement. it is toward this end i seek, and hereby dedicate myself, to correct. i seek it. my bead is trained upon thee, me.
if i keep repeating to myself "what a fuggin' hustle, and for what?!" - the answer will always return a shadowy "huh"?
so, what then. care.
as i bleed inside to take care of her, how can i, if i don't take care of this.
these are no longer the times of legend. these are the times of pink forms, sans scribbling. the restoration. the reformation. the trimming of beard and fat.
no one told me that rock 'n' roll would be tough, because there's no need to. "cortez the killer" is on, a live version. you think he has time to warn anyone?
contracts are for killers. resolve is for the rest of us, not necessarily victims - if we have anything to say about it. which we always do.
willie nelson named an album 'the sound in your mind.' everything you hear is such.
i have no need to worry about when i will be heard. i hear myself right now, in fine tune.
i address an earlier posit posed by Mina, on the subject of my newfound love which she wanted "Upgrown & Overblown" to write about; Mina, she who has brought both big laughs and much of the mental twist.
i say this with deep respect:
it's my love.
and it's for me to know.
happy new year.
i write more now.
i give hellos to all, with pats on back and secret handshakes.