You have a way with you, you do
November 8, 2010 § Leave a comment
Through middle west, I get you off my chest. I don’t want you to like me if you don’t want to like me.
Through far east, I make you not quite mine. Lion, lion, lion. Line-man. I’d like to walk into your den your open mouth whatever, as long as it’s free from punctuation and any form of separation.
I took a photo of a man melting into my mind. A child played piano on the downside. I held tight. You are dying or merely too far from my immediate world to be living.
Nothing I write has the power to touch or tremble or mean a thing, and this means something in my mind. It is a man, melting. Spread him down, jam jamma jam. Open wide, lion. Line-man.