Dear Sir, it began-
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As I furrowed my brow in horrible thought
Lonely hope in lonely wood-
Actually it doesn't that way
Though I wish it could-
It began with my name
(in the place they say: last name, first name)
Pulled taut by ink and electric
In self-conscious print
Vaguely facetious, very desperate.
Continued with lists(all straightruled)
Flying in your face in their mad dances made
More truthfully- mad shuffles of my nerves.
Then line there, a paragraph here..
Here are my favored words..
Made ultimate tools- practical fools-
Weapons of my destruction or
The letter signed and sealed
We sent into the air
Sleepy eyes trailing its path
Tired tongues blessing upon it flood
For it to cavort in the heavens
With the clouds to tumble with
To fall into another's hand
So he or she may see...our life-
As faded and as jaded as memory and all the dreams
Mangled into cold lifeless things
Within the dress of a dossier
And be glad of the sight.
Dear Sir, I could say
All earnestness meant in fancy
Voice soft among the trees-
I lived for the perfect words hanging upon your perfect lips..though I were pinning Echo..
Yet this is a different age...and Narcissus's pool had long ago dried-
The conscious shape reality.