Cursing, but taking the time to sleep with myself:
Or to really clean up, manhandling if softly, and in any kind of weather:
Or both by themselves:
As now you have to call it like it is, as the Ferris Wheels turn themselves
Around,
And Alma likes me more and more:
And maybe she is finally found out, as if in the foundation of an unsociable
Fire that has finally touched ground:
And what about the airplanes that used to live there: and what, oh
What have they been doing, but making their own
Galleries of a nubile show: and then they really impress themselves
Like the first spittoons off the waves of gallant horses
Who have always been winning themselves:
As the storm clouds pirouette into surrender, as the bayonets of
Whatever enemies we were fighting bleed themselves dry:
As my uncle’s market makes so much money
Until I have to leave myself, and wave my muse, Alma, goodbye.
Until I Have To Leave Myself
Did you enjoy the the artible “Until I Have To Leave Myself” from Robert Rorabeck on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply