Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Bemoaning Insufficiency

Yesterday, on a whim,

Off the oft-beaten path,

I met a bohemian crew.

I had known them before—

no, not them, but their like—

in those days of the corner-hid you.

You were quiet, reserved,

Unobtrusive, resigned

That this transient, lucid array

Would never admit you

one sliver of gold

Would elude your perception alway

Sweet the laughter, rung clear

through that house once a year--

So you stretched a pretentious domain--

I had known them before

You had known them, and o

even since, we are awkwardly plain.

Tell the grand happenstance

Feverish Spain romance

of the boils of pestilent sleep

she is searching, and see,

it is piercing for me,

one whose plumbings are not very deep

I can see her espy

through one half of one eye

Every twist of the pencilate curl

I deny for the nonce

that she knew me at once,

she the faraway intimate girl.

Could we face her again

Face the crew of them, there

Having nothing so little as we

Track their fingers through dust

Of our mindless mistrust

In which lock we have broken the key...

And unsure, o unsure

how to ache and endure

the exposure of infinite lack

all my life all my song

is invalid and wrong

no such person as you, take it back--

take it back--

take it back.

Take it back.

I want somebody new.

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