We are happy in our way of life
It doesn't make much sense to others we sit about
Read and are restless occasionally it becomes time
to lower the dark shade over it all
our entity pivots a self induced trance
like sleep noiseless our living stops
and one strays as in a dream
into those respectable purlieus where life is motionless and alive
to utter the few words one knows
O woebegone people Why so much crying
such desolations in the street
is it the present of flesh that each of you
at your jagged casement window should handle
Nervous unto thirst and ultimate death
Meanwhile the true way is sleeping
Your lawful act drinks ab unhealthy repose
from the upturned lips of this vessel secretly
But it is always time for a change
that certain sins of omission goes unpunished
does not weaken your position
But this underbrush of which you are secure
is it's doing, farewell then
Until under a better sky
We may meet expended for just doing it
is only an excuse, we need the tether
of entering each other's livers eyes wide apart crying
As one who moves forward from a dream
The stranger left that house on hastening feet
Leaving the woman with the face shaped like an arrowhead
and all you gazed upon him wondered at
the strange activity around him
how fast the faces kindled as he pass
it was a marvel that no one spoke
to stem the river of his passing
now grown to flood proportions on sunlit malls
or in the enclosure of some court
He took his pleasure savage
and mild with contemplating
yet each knew he only saw aspects
that the continuity was fierce beyond all dreams of enduring
and turned his head away and so
the lessons eddied far into the night
joyful into the night and in the blackness blacker still
though undying joyousness caught in that trap