1.
Oh yes, friend! I'm crazy-
that's just the way I am.
2.
I see sounds,
I hear sights,
I taste smells,
I touch not heaven but things from the underworld,
things people do not believe exist,
......
ONCE more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind.
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.
I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
......
Who hath desired the Sea? -- the sight of salt water unbounded --
The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded?
The sleek-barrelled swell before storm, grey, foamless, enormous, and growing --
Stark calm on the lap of the Line or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing --
His Sea in no showing the same his Sea and the same 'neath each showing:
His Sea as she slackens or thrills?
So and no otherwise -- so and no otherwise -- hillmen desire their Hills!
Who hath desired the Sea? -- the immense and contemptuous surges?
The shudder, the stumble, the swerve, as the star-stabbing bow-sprit emerges?
......
At six o'clock we were waiting for coffee,
waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb
that was going to be served from a certain balcony
--like kings of old, or like a miracle.
It was still dark. One foot of the sun
steadied itself on a long ripple in the river.
The first ferry of the day had just crossed the river.
It was so cold we hoped that the coffee
would be very hot, seeing that the sun
......
Awake, arise, the hour is come,
For rows and revolutions;
There's no receipt like pike and drum
For crazy constitutions.
Close, close the shop! Break, break the loom,
Desert your hearths and furrows,
And throng in arms to seal the doom
Of England's rotten boroughs.
We'll stretch that tort'ring Castlereagh
......
‘Neath the air, its cold puff, the plough & its tough
In the oval moon, the pacing dandelion fluff
In this window & flower pot & a handcuff
Seeing the oceans of white waves, paves the ashes
Sea shells & the crabs laughed ‘neath the
Canopy . . . the itchy irritation butterflies
The poor gum, immaculate flowers, illusions
The captains mangle, its luring a stray skeleton cat
Its refuge in a cave of bats, whose limbs torn, sing melodies
Blind & with bleeding chests, lays pieces & the pests
......
Shutting the door with a sigh
Running from insanity
A close call, as claws clatter and click
Fanged jaws snap, and fling snotty saliva
Unhinged hounds of lunacy
A ravenous pack, carried on my shoulder
Feverishly followed by fatuous feelings
Never far from crazy
......
His methods were almost simplistic...
He seemed anachronistic...
His attitude totally chauvinistic...
His words often linguistic...
He lost his large enthusiasm...
No longer using sharp sarcasm...
His thoughts going into a strange spasm...
His bruised ego triggered a chasm...
......
In the morning
she jerked him off
and had him
cum in the cups of her
bra and then
he watched as she put it
on and went about the
rest of her day like
that
......
daisies in my hair
red and pink yellow and blue
the fields of frolic
vases hats gardens
trailing sun from window box
swaying to summer
anytime daisy
dawn sunset red midnight black
......