I know now the problem was I had looked incorrectly, that
chapter ends as pudding then, now why this wind, I forget
the
moment where I please and do everything right and be clear,
he fell again and every time he falls he comes closer over
here,
there's dual purpose in the dictionary, I get informed and
divinely then where everything Egyptian is the fashion, old
Egyptian and old Persian, old Persian milk is perishing,
he's
on my box of letters now, far-fetched and full and fucking,
that's the moon and its monkey deriving more stores of
adjectives,
maybe you've found the best rest in old ideas, he can fly too,
nothing much to that moment with the unused books in the
empty
room, so warm though, now a frenetic one's come to slow
the
tune, cooling down, I don't rest as much as I have a purpose
when I'm in here, these guys don't, they're out of their
element as one would say or buzz, some other man in town
IS
writing his autobiography, he talks to a woman about it, I'll
see my sister soon, right here, and now they 're biting me,
can I be nimble enough to skip over moments and feel
enclosed
in a kind of heat, heat before scalding, no damage done,
where I'll rest in old ideas, save part of the old culture
and still be a hero every minute, I consult myself and
forgive it.
I fall too under the shower of water
Old and new but never another
