Came round from design town naked as you pleased.. had a necklace made of manscapes.. friends amid their trees..
Never had a home I knew of.. said from ‘anywhere’.. time we plied drunk world of cries I saw she could not care..
Not for boyfriend lived next door.. first and last of plans.. for her t.v. marry tarry.. impressive marriage hand..
Pain comes on forever rebounds.. not a word of Dad.. not a bucket for tears cried when young she left the pad..
Quiet whispers in the place her 3 month child lies still.. blame that 15-year-old infant.. nightmares poignant shrill..
‘Sylph’ a name of cool.. among the cool and wounded so.. when old dreams of others close doors to your private show..
25 she feels older.. in heart mind and the place.. always running.. always behind rocks.. shocks.. outer space..
Second all that beckons Sylph.. sometimes almost home.. to her warm in woman true.. nevermore to roam..
Passes by.. I always know.. always have a smile.. for young Sylph.. her image dreams.. love and taunting style..
Purse of leather always had it.. does not carry much.. just a doll she dresses social.. and a drug store crutch..
‘as I speak and listen in conversation.. trust of what is inherent.. genetic and endemic holds my end in truth.. when what I call ‘academic travel’ is done there is a mutual learning of consequence and sometimes personal feeling.. all of it stems.. in each one.. from feeling.. the structure of ‘politics’ is most apparent in need and how it works in verbal exchange as in all forms of social interaction’..