4-28-05

these men are spinning and singular

and i do not know

i do not speak bold and dirty

words shit and grease

and there is no splendid hierarchy

that the true drenching scent of loneliness

not in style or spirit

may capture my form and prevent the spill and spread of my self

that i might be built and shaped by this

that i may not be singular to stretch and fuse

i am wrapt and dread in full form

and disaster does not strike and death does not speak

and i am meant to stay

to grow and tumble

and age until time is nothing