The delicate mystery answered like a memory
part of the scenery, i bring no purposeful injury
discovery of a unity with such a simplicity
recovery of senses lost through our history

we are all only part land, part sea
every tiny particle is part of our key
every little mouse, every giant tree
I am part of you, and you are part of me

a cultural discovery of uncovered humanity
actively prolonging the agony of mankind's vanity
what is really living passively or living savagely?
simple serenity destroyed by our brutality

During boring
school lessons
he looks across
at Yehudit at her desk

takes in her brown hair
shoulder length
her profile
the eyes

nose
and how she sits
her large bust
her pen in hand

writing
and the teacher writing
on the board
boring stuff

time wasting scribbling
he watches her
her head bent
intent on the work

and thinks
of that time
by the pond
in the wood

he lying there
on the grass
sun above his head
and she came

and sat beside him
her peasant simplicity
overwhelming him
her show of leg

as she moved closer
her eyes large
and fire filled
and he told her

about the large butterfly
he'd seen in the woods
red and black
and white tips

and as he spoke
she touched his thigh
moved her hand along it
her fingers doing

that walking thing
on the jeans
and he proceeded
with the butterfly talk

as her fingers
walked deeper
and pressed and pressured
and he said

OK so the butterfly
isn't the most
intense subject
but hey

what are you doing
with the walking?
raising an interest
she said

and he said
two can play
at that game
and touched her leg

the soft flesh
moving his hand
just beneath
her skirt

warm and silky
and now once
you've written
that down

the teacher says
dragging Baruch
from his day dream
of memories

I'll talk about
the exports and imports
of the nation
and so he goes on

but Baruch
is only half listening
he studies Yehudit's hands
how they join together

as if in prayer
elbows on the desk
her chin resting
on the finger tips

and how her knees touch
issuing from the skirt
beneath the desk
and that time

he kissed her
under the full moon
and he howled afterwards
like some hound

and she laughed
and it echoed
around trees
and they kissed again

dismissing
the November rain.

I am but a skeleton,
A misprinted society element.**
I lived to the hum of my own melody,
A disapproved version of achieving ecstasy.
Those around me didn't like that very much,
Made me feel crazy, distant, and such.
Then, one day, I came to find,
I was one of few with such an open mind.
Pressured with conformity, I remained organic,
Such a rebellion filled them with panic.
So here I lie, a pile of bones
They ripped me to shreds, no trace with their ghost.
No one realized, for they were confined,
Stressing to stay structured, to keep their design.
But in the near future, they all will see,
The one they cold-heartedly killed is with whom they now agree.