I returned to find my name had been stepped upon
Through no fault of my own
Through nothing I had done

Boys had interpretted something that they heard
And spread my identity around
Tinged and blackened with what they preferred

I am innocent in all of this
I wanted to fight back
But people told me not to bring it forth
It would make it worse, to cut them some slack

If I was a man this wouldn't be an issue
Please can people stick up for those who have been trodden on
This is a fight one girl cannot make alone

Found and lost at once,
immediate
inbetweenity, here, not there
in a way, in the air, expired

whoosh, shush and remember
the wonder lost,
when the boy who wished never
to grow old
with this now to
remain the time of our lives, when
not knowing keeps us safe,
and our guides into ever on go, ever
be
holding, ever eyewise-touching
the face of God,
big g.

Time and Joy, Edwardian Gay
repressed as zeitgeist calling for
"lovely, wonderful thoughts"

infantile omnipotence, 700 million light
geotimed timid old ideas

The author imagines the same vision
one way, plain, unencoded

white wolves in a walnut tree
freud interpretted the unconscious wish source

ah, it was the witnessing of *** enacted, eh?
I think we may have granted Herr Freud
more credence than guesses are often allowed.

Is this not the same social act as when
any knowledge is claimed by faith in the answer
accepted

inner being, outer shown, reflective seeing
the world we see, we agree to see,
this is that, you see,
I say, literally living in word alone, a nobody

founding one fair-made tale, of favors owned, shrinking

death in the brothers wish, where lay the dead man
I recall as always handsome, though I never knew him.

I was such a liar, so ready to say true a not-ever-true

Having no success that makes history,
hold no certain truth that certainly made me
choose
to wish to
be an author of the faith I pour out

clap your hands if you believe
in fair
ways found oddly marked in the peace
found in old

"better to have had less ambition"

Thinking as a child, not as the old man, watching
slight smile
forming the setting for the scene, making much

of being a little boy, once, as a story
sifted from another, seeping into solution.

Yes the spirit of my time has been my friend,
for, most of the ways I wished to learn,
now are in my grasp, well within my reach, mine
and that of my Artistical Intuitive Muse,
ever aiming my morning at the mercy on the edge
of one day alone
with you,

lost in youth's untutored virginity
or something, impatient, yes, I'd wait… perfect moments
are rare,
but do occur, if your aim is close..

Found and lost at once,
immediate
inbetweenity, here, not there
in a way, in the air, expired

whoosh, shush and remember
the wonder lost,
when the boy who wished never
to grow old
with this now to
remain the time of our lives, when
not knowing keeps us safe,
and our guides into ever on go, ever
be
holding, ever eyewise-touching
the face of God,
big g.

Time and joy, Edwardian Gay Hebrew
repressed as zeitgeist calling for
"lovely, wonderfull thoughts"

infantile omnipotence, 700 million light
geotimed timid old ideas

The author imagines the same vision
one way, plain, unencoded

white wolves in a walnut tree
freud interpretted the unconscious wish source

ah, it was the witnessing of *** enacted, eh?
I think we may have granted Herr Freud
more credence than guesses are often allowed.

Is this not the same social act as when
any knowledge is claimed by faith in the answer
accepted

inner being, outer shown, reflective seeing
the world we see, we agree to see,
this is that, you see,
I say, literally living in word alone, a nobody

founding one fair-made tale, of favors owned, shrinking

death in the brothers wish, where the dead man
I recall as always handsome, though I never knew him.

I was such a liar, so ready to say true a not-ever-true

Having no success that makes history,
hold no certain truth that certainly made me
choose
to wish to
be an author of the faith I pour out

clap your hands if you believe
in fair
ways found oddly marked in the peace
found in old

"better to have had less ambition"

Thinking as a child, not as the old man, watching
slight smile
forming the setting for the scene, making much

of being a little boy, once, as a story
sifted from another, seeping into solution.

Yes the spirit of my time has been my friend,
for, most of the ways I wished to learn,
now are in my grasp, well within my reach, mine
and that of my Artistical Intuitive Muse,
ever aiming my morning at the mercy on the edge
of one day alone
with you,

lost in youth's untutored virginity
or something, impatient, yes, I'd wait… perfect moments
are rare,
but do occur, if your aim is close..