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I faced death with bravery and commotion;
Cot curled and book a-clutching;
As it was shutting me up and downing my shades.
Had the eyes, all three of them, - had they, in blasphemy’s contempt
traveled longer on worser sight to be plucked then away so unprofitted?
That blooming triumph and loathed failure!;
The coming to’s and going from’s!;
The snow, bloom, leaves and perspiration of the calendars evolution’d through,
girding my growth.
For to be putted this unsudden calamity;
For devotion of lifelong intertwinement;
For this dividing up to death’s partition?
The abandonment of it all, it blasts the mind, stomps human logic, and had me cot curled
and book’d!
Written on November 8th, 1996 |
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