January 17, 2015 § Leave a comment

a chasm has opened
Through the window,
two red points on a crane,
expanse of grey cloud upon grey,
Orange sulphur fewer, picking out but a few windows.
Night fall.

Mass, I learn the derivation of it today,
from the Latin Ite, missa est
(Go, you are sent out) — only est is the third person singular and not the second,
so I’m not sure. it would seem rather to, first, address the plural: Go! and then: it is sent
We left the green hymn books on the pew when they began to sing.

This afternoon, Bloomsbury, I choose a watch.
and the strap is too big but that’s OK,
I’ll ask my dad to make another hole when I am home.
it’s nice loose.
I asked my father once, young,
if it were possible that I were a robot,
and all the others real.

To express desire at this point is to utter a thing profane, and too loud.
There are rules that I have failed to understand.
I know that
if only I may release myself from them,
I will sin less.


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