When singing songs they are a chorus
of me and my shadows together opening
our mouths (kisses at a distance
some touchings of the self: love). When bees
buzz by the way that they do I imagine they
buzz by via their own tunes and not the wind:
which happens to be around their wings. To sing
is something so simple and selfish and sweet
and right—wouldn't you like to know? —and when
you do it everything becomes yourself like a shiver.
When I am with you: myself: the world
is so much with us while really it is not,
but to sing it is good and is right and is sweet and is selfish so simple.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
When singing songs they are a chorus
of me and my shadows together opening
our mouths (kisses at a distance
some touchings of the self: love). When bees
buzz by the way that they do I imagine they
buzz by via their own tunes and not the wind:
which happens to be around their wings. To sing
is something so simple and selfish and sweet
and right—wouldn't you like to know? —and when
you do it everything becomes yourself like a shiver.
When I am with you: myself: the world
is so much with us while really it is not,
but to sing it is good and is right and is sweet and is selfish so simple.
