the same, though one contains harmful vapors
and should bf' kept hidden from children.
Now I will tell you what an honest man I am.
The last time I felt the magical force of boredom
I stole its pure and heavy wand. I wave it,
a prize, from some pinnacle in the sorry recesses
of my mind, in a light as cold as my teeth,
dryas the lies on my tongue. For what more
can someone ask than to have floated like a stone
over that barrenness, to claim it, once
and only once, all for himself; breathe the stale air
where the earth was lifted away like a stone
and starve his vision in its limitless absence;
know how far above the stink of the supernal
the weakest moment can propel him
before sending him back, unknowably changed,
to
light a cigarette and blow the first puff
against the blank page or the whites of your eyes.
Now I will tell you all I know of greed and paradise.
Cold air has replaced the thoughts in my blood.
Clouds leave their 'ikeletons sliding down
my windows like melting frost while I slide
into the sleep of an ox struck by lightning,
lightning warm as a kiss.
Then the damn ox dies, leaves me standing there
to
sniff its sleep that sweetens the air
with so many other mindless flowerings.
I planned to go somewhere I couldn't imagine,
but that's what this white weather is all about:
grand deceptions whistled a,way colorless as steam
while one obvious world verges on the next.
