Lonesome--I cannot write today.

I read your words like heartbreak
heartbroken
from your bleeding pen

leaving tears on the page.

And see where here we are foremost together;
alas a dreamingdream in a picture frame.

Interrupted only I thirst for water downed the drain.

This is only an appeal to the beginning,
a reference to something present and
a radio signal to what endsshallend.

EverytimeIwrite I feel
a little more
eighteen and a little less
four
and twelve
and seventysix.

But I long for Seven.

Lonesome--I cannot write today.

Shan't winit, shanty, so give the lass a kiss from 'far and wee.

Itwasallingood fun,--so--(where nowhere I belong is
wherever you may be)

And can't you see I love you?(where far and shingle
houses ullulate and wait) I undulate and unzip
but whichweigh the feather lightly?

Lonesome--I cannot write today.

So write tomorrow, I say.