I don’t know how deep
I am in this idea
the crazy man ***** on the train
I don’t know how deep
this tunnel goes
I don’t know how far back –
he looks past my eyes:
I don’t know how rapt
I am in this maze of strayed greetings;
I am in outer space
I don’t know how deep
the crazy man cracks his crazy back
and spits
I still don’t know –
in this vestibule
where the days go,
how far the days go;
the alphabet starts and ends
I don’t know what darkness tastes like,
feels like:
I don’t know why this train bends –
why that tall woman sits staring,
why he paces,
yelling at dark glass
the crazy man is still crazy
a few rows ahead
but
I am easily asleep;
lost in pink
sunset clouds
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 4:14 AM UTC
I don’t know how deep
I am in this idea
the crazy man ***** on the train
I don’t know how deep
this tunnel goes
I don’t know how far back –
he looks past my eyes:
I don’t know how rapt
I am in this maze of strayed greetings;
I am in outer space
I don’t know how deep
the crazy man cracks his crazy back
and spits
I still don’t know –
in this vestibule
where the days go,
how far the days go;
the alphabet starts and ends
I don’t know what darkness tastes like,
feels like:
I don’t know why this train bends –
why that tall woman sits staring,
why he paces,
yelling at dark glass
the crazy man is still crazy
a few rows ahead
but
I am easily asleep;
lost in pink
sunset clouds
