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2015/05/19

Yesterday .. .

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   He suffered  ... he couldn't find his body. No one found it. the day before a brief glimpse ... a touch in passing .. then he remembers what loss is.

  Loss is what was and no more. No more is of was? was is was. his was . he was there but not a stranger in passing this glass of glimpse into the rare form of self.

She was suffering his suffering  glancing at him in the mirror of her sunglasses. No one's touched him in, as they say, a long time. Too long to remember . But the pain of its absence is a memory to behold. suffering the what was not. Nor isn't and the how to in the loss of the mouth  in the moment  of its present.


He walked. turned the corner. boarded the bus. crowded dogs swarming on him he's gone a death blow to the sudden subject and no more. but the existence that justifies itself at the edge of the economy.


 O that economy. That book.   Yes, in the summer of their advent. No troubles tear them apart limb from limb worse than the troubles of their summer . that's no more. ruled by rules of the talking grammar of the god assent to the language powers that be . determining his self.


 what breaths in this hour but suffering loneliness, debt, so long, a word, debut.


how to announce oneself when dying . and the stranger coming going, going and coming, its recompense spent. Freed from this double summer spent? a hoarse voice whispering in the gallery. a smashing bird's next. torment for the one who's heard of all too much.

He's lost there. He was alone. Walking. the bus. then missed it, gets on the back, changing seats she's clustered his walking on with his hate.


 Loneliness, which almost has the word lioness in it, is the dog that's torn the river. which was not a river, but the rapids of the back-spent pages.

A man dying of his worried worth? let's have no self pity here, no one's applauding least of all his friends.


 He was brooding. No never brooding but it wondered at him this hour.

He was there, in the city, it's dark tent cloy on him.

A dog down by night.

 He was the river extraordinaire suffered by the waves of its algae its laughter. One's not so easy to finish as this.
   As the eyes can't see what heaven knows?  we'll come back to this. in the days that come. overbearing like a rune in the sky.

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