she is gone yet she is still with me

Unto,Heaven is my wander

A sawdust blindfold awaits me

And Jesus is the master of unfinished pine

The birth of my baby is gone

My nipples no longer perceive pierced

Saint Sebastian would be envious

I astonishment if she is made of stardust

If she floats in ethereal wisp

When I circular the corner of Second Avenue and 35th way

Down here I scrape bookshelves and tables with the back of my hand

But I cannot take them abode

I cannot afford to

So my compass stays bare and anxious

The lock openers have trouble fitting inside of the fastenings

But I must realize inside to change her diapers!

She has a rash in like manner I throw up

And pulverized substance falls on my head like a dried white fountain

I shake rattles into the neck of possibility

I think about what might have been

Before you were in the matrix l`knew you

Michelangelo where are you?

Without you there is no chapel

Copyright World poesy Incorporated Mar/Apr 1999

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