One Day Time Will Die And Love

Hinged To Forgetfulness Like A Door, She Slowly Closed Out Of Sight, And She Was The Woman I Loved, But Too Many Times She Slept Like A Mechanical Deer In My Caresses, And I Ached In The Metal Silence Of Her Dreams.

Im Haunted A Little This Evening By Feelings That Have No Vocabulary And Events That Should Be Explained In Dimensions Of Lint Rather Than Words. Ive Been Examining Half-scraps Of My Childhood. They Are Pieces Of Distant Life That Have No Form Or Meaning. They Are Things That Just Happened Like Lint.

The Bees In My Stomach Are Dead And Getting Used To It.

It's Strange How The Simple Things In Life Go On While We Become More Difficult.

A Friend Came Over To The House A Few Days Ago And Read One Of My Poems. He Came Back Today And Asked To Read The Same Poem Over Again. After He Finished Reading It, He Said, It Makes Me Want To Write Poetry.