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Poetry to Any Human Thing, More or Less

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Married

How thick the fog to lose myself may get
and the dreams of doing
while looking murder in the eyes.

Broken Pudding

Droopingly with bent shoulders and hopeless hang of head and a hoarse feeling I began to dress, and get into mental processes, dreamy and young at heart. There would be no more aching nights of lagging, weird cries for a change. Buying the pistol like a man abroad in a strange place could be well. And very simple incantations, a shining gift, like panting and simple good things first. I did not smile at the thought of a broken pudding for work-out. I was clenching it somehow (for gladness of might), deeply hoarsely, in the middle of speaking.

To the Broken Back

Draw deep breaths and smile at the knowledge,
for the blazing and crackling wood catches the coal
that is you
for it.

Have a new, comfortable thing if you can.
Often six or seven.

If rested by normal sleep
get some good things,
some on your back.
Nearly always have two ways of looking at a thing,
The best way yields huge advantages.

Your Onerous Dreams

Confronting your onerous dreams
is at best of no use - no use at all.
It is hard to get above all flickering painful thoughts from
bruised and tormented days.

Poetry, END MATTER

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