“The heart wants what it wants — or else it does not care.”
- Emily Dickinson
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I unburied my heart and cried. Poor little thing Poor little fool indigent in there, no answer. no one came back for me Everyone blue light mesmerized faces minor February moons Mid-air, last fare, au contrair— Cushion collectors, made in China Obsolete foetus, Pushkin pushers Amulet of a Talisman, not fair Eloquency uttered, sputtered, natural lying Platinum kissogram O sweet sad parting, old mar anguishing languishing farewell my friend Wheelbarrow of borrowed clouds check the sundial for Saturn’s moon terrestrial ball wedding leaves Clocks and gowns, frowning clowns undo death — for the love of you unto death if not
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