speak of yourself with timid wonder, faced with the night, their dogs blue . With eyes closed and open chest. And life is oh god bites lips silently undressing other hearts, in this November with a quiet operating room. There is only one truth from door to door after the names that are out of you, caught in the frenzy of their love sadly called Barefoot Contessa. Memory double bottom subway stations. Shivering to route marches granite, dressed in impudent song. Burning undaunted. Denying unhappy land dictates stiff moving on rooftops. When the rain pours into your bed for future immigration cold colors, glass cheek, stands brave gesture of yours that exact perspective of self-me-is concerned. It is not even live far away in closed rings in morning roundabouts where you turn fear about fear. It is rather an unusual way to prohibit paid to ask the time clock. And that one foot over another decent dance listening to the radio on all machines. Goddess without altar of God, extraordinarily human and fragile. Just wound what you want to give this public theater, the frivolous jungle sweetly tempered glass and sound.
[Allows pain
cross your legs and never gets tired of waiting and numb
While the cover is torn at the bottom
Of all our oil wells]
You are the light And the same
That grows wheat the light
[Photo of Eve Arnold]
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