Lost, two tangled bodies
Found, two shaken minds
Wedded by the sanction of
Bedded at the junction of
A liquid fawn and brother dawn
Yawning, spawning hows and nows
Aroused, arising, they arose
The ruse was little less
Than smokeclouds of excuse
To let the sparrows loose
To set a narrow noose
Around the lid of reasons
much less than only when
where is the nowhere
see-saying nothing, seesaw
has seen mongers
fooled by dimming shadows
where are the happy
skirting the edges of mynd
a somewhere up, over here
under milkwood, over there
in cognito, out of a job
high is a warming what
who is a watering place
low-lying, why is the high
beneath contempt, above reproach
I am shit,
I am the greatest.
I am spit,
I am the latest
in a line of fools:
too few books, too many schools.
I am lost,
I am the coming.
I am frost
on the lead plumbing
that drips down the walls
of gray marble mens' room stalls.
I am sand,
I am the breaker.
I am planned
by the Star-Maker
to roam around Earth
looking for a place of birth.