the more I know, the less I see
beyond my straddled fantasy.

the dirt and mellow keep you warm,
a worthwhile weary stack of
blank magazines
worn white in ceaseless rain.

you still dream of me, and we know it
you still dream of me, and we know it

more than this, we water 'thus,'
like waiting whirlpools in the water
more than this, we make a mess
like waiting whirlpools in the water

like waiting whirlpools in the water

*like waiting whirlpools in the water