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Description
A WOMAN'S HEART

Sadly deprived. That worries me.
But I'm not trying to understand things;
I can't make sense out of people.

I've lived without the big red mass of plastic camouflage,
taking advantage of a moment when no one was looking.
Keep an eye on a woman's heart - difficult not to call
a great many deprived; right to work, night duty.
Supposed to see that they did not collect all and place them

in a large safe.

HE SHOULD HAVE LIED

Vaguely sensing that what he'd done could not be mended –
was gone, stopping, halting;
sullenly evading the question,

he could not admit his own troubles.
"I, the poet with the cigarette teeth, calls on others, 'Protect me!'"

NO BOILING WATER FOR TEA

That night secret messages were phoned to be brought
and left to wait, to prevent,
leaving the dark and it seemed as if not air but flame
were entering
and leaving his lungs.
Just before the change, freedom had come to a stop:
an excess of love and fidelity passing, trembling through the frost like a series of blows
nor did he notice the women of the night,
yet it was still more curious along the right side of the hall.

LANGUAGE IS A TOOL OF PRODUCTION

Iron will. Inflexible will.
Language is a tool of production, fruitful mind unwound –
sharp and supple nighttime mind.

All best ideas sentences should be – how to stretch, how to bind all motion escaping.

THE PIT BECKONS AGAIN

You scan me: melted at once and then stopped.
It was turning cold – though it was almost 5 a.m., the skies were still pitch black.
Stared, but did not see.
Waiting, quivering.

KISSING IS FORBIDDEN

Understood why, answering glance -
Yes, for you, kissing is forbidden.

Pacing the room like guards to search within, allowing a fumbling at his lacerated heart.
Tracing paper on which he had written his story
as though it were an ordinary thing.

LIFE IS NO LOVE STORY

Don't want to add anything: "The one you love is closer than you think,"
the girls nearer the window called,
but they found that too cold and uncomfortable.
Lying possessed other intriguing robes, but
with great restraint,
she had grown used to doing this.

PETTY PRISON MATTERS

For others it comes with first love.

Each morning he doubted if they were not.

"All right, I'll come," he said,
stretching petty prison matters to help prepare something shameful,
revealing the very essence of our existence.

"I love to tell the hours by lunch and tea."
Recited these remarkable, devoted capacities out of nothing but the name
in human language.

YOU ONLY HAVE ONE CONSCIENCE

Had left that not everyone understood: two chapters away
there was nothing else to do.
The exit door opened, lying, burning with curiosity
You only have one conscience.

IT CAN BE IMPERFECT

Through what gate do these breezes blow?
On shaky philosophical ground, falling obediently into place, he had quietly changed.

You can imagine a high level of deep personal devotion:
we only live once – that's not typical anymore.
The die-hard confirmed: had been cancelled.
Not one of his books had been published.

A DUEL NOT ACCORDING TO THE RULES

Husbands in the city – not have to go back home, no longer of the darkness,
and kissed the embroidered cuffs of her long sleeves:
"…was it her fault that the time of her fullest ripening had come and that she was destined by the implacable laws of nature to fall, like a September apple, into the hands of whoever reached for her" ?

CLENCHED FISTS

Slender young hallways of the special prison, chasing prisoners back to their rooms -
he could not tear himself away from her.
She would pull away from him before morning.

He, being a bastard, would eventually go to bed,
but they had forgotten about sleep.
Disturbing their argument with each blow that was exchanged – shame on you.
They told you real things – tell me you listen to them.
Should I listen to them? As if lives mean the world's collapsing.
Black to white, the ends justify.

HIS FAVORITE PROFESSION

Active in different cashiers,
in different buildings and on different floors,
security affairs were of equal rank – see the other.

NO, NOT YOU

"Listen, I didn't force you. I'm going now."

"Wait a minute, give us one day more. What do you mean not guilty?
Not guilty of anything at all?"

He left without a single good word, still it was painful.
It was as though everything they had so delicately trampled on,
the last night of the world's passion of dedication -
all this time they kept pressing on in the wrong direction.

They sat there in silence.
"No, not you."
She could not let this high and solemn moment of her life happen casually.

MEAT

He burst in angrily. "When someone's decent to you, you treat them like-"
They wouldn't meet.
They kissed each other's cheeks, took the open book, and went off
and left it lying there on the floor.
They were taken and from time to time did not deign
His despair.

Description
A WOMAN'S HEART

Sadly deprived. That worries me.
But I'm not trying to understand things;
I can't make sense out of people.

I've lived without the big red mass of plastic camouflage,
taking advantage of a moment when no one was looking.
Keep an eye on a woman's heart - difficult not to call
a great many deprived; right to work, night duty.
Supposed to see that they did not collect all and place them

in a large safe.

HE SHOULD HAVE LIED

Vaguely sensing that what he'd done could not be mended –
was gone, stopping, halting;
sullenly evading the question,

he could not admit his own troubles.
"I, the poet with the cigarette teeth, calls on others, 'Protect me!'"

NO BOILING WATER FOR TEA

That night secret messages were phoned to be brought
and left to wait, to prevent,
leaving the dark and it seemed as if not air but flame
were entering
and leaving his lungs.
Just before the change, freedom had come to a stop:
an excess of love and fidelity passing, trembling through the frost like a series of blows
nor did he notice the women of the night,
yet it was still more curious along the right side of the hall.

LANGUAGE IS A TOOL OF PRODUCTION

Iron will. Inflexible will.
Language is a tool of production, fruitful mind unwound –
sharp and supple nighttime mind.

All best ideas sentences should be – how to stretch, how to bind all motion escaping.

THE PIT BECKONS AGAIN

You scan me: melted at once and then stopped.
It was turning cold – though it was almost 5 a.m., the skies were still pitch black.
Stared, but did not see.
Waiting, quivering.

KISSING IS FORBIDDEN

Understood why, answering glance -
Yes, for you, kissing is forbidden.

Pacing the room like guards to search within, allowing a fumbling at his lacerated heart.
Tracing paper on which he had written his story
as though it were an ordinary thing.

LIFE IS NO LOVE STORY

Don't want to add anything: "The one you love is closer than you think,"
the girls nearer the window called,
but they found that too cold and uncomfortable.
Lying possessed other intriguing robes, but
with great restraint,
she had grown used to doing this.

PETTY PRISON MATTERS

For others it comes with first love.

Each morning he doubted if they were not.

"All right, I'll come," he said,
stretching petty prison matters to help prepare something shameful,
revealing the very essence of our existence.

"I love to tell the hours by lunch and tea."
Recited these remarkable, devoted capacities out of nothing but the name
in human language.

YOU ONLY HAVE ONE CONSCIENCE

Had left that not everyone understood: two chapters away
there was nothing else to do.
The exit door opened, lying, burning with curiosity
You only have one conscience.

IT CAN BE IMPERFECT

Through what gate do these breezes blow?
On shaky philosophical ground, falling obediently into place, he had quietly changed.

You can imagine a high level of deep personal devotion:
we only live once – that's not typical anymore.
The die-hard confirmed: had been cancelled.
Not one of his books had been published.

A DUEL NOT ACCORDING TO THE RULES

Husbands in the city – not have to go back home, no longer of the darkness,
and kissed the embroidered cuffs of her long sleeves:
"…was it her fault that the time of her fullest ripening had come and that she was destined by the implacable laws of nature to fall, like a September apple, into the hands of whoever reached for her" ?

CLENCHED FISTS

Slender young hallways of the special prison, chasing prisoners back to their rooms -
he could not tear himself away from her.
She would pull away from him before morning.

He, being a bastard, would eventually go to bed,
but they had forgotten about sleep.
Disturbing their argument with each blow that was exchanged – shame on you.
They told you real things – tell me you listen to them.
Should I listen to them? As if lives mean the world's collapsing.
Black to white, the ends justify.

HIS FAVORITE PROFESSION

Active in different cashiers,
in different buildings and on different floors,
security affairs were of equal rank – see the other.

NO, NOT YOU

"Listen, I didn't force you. I'm going now."

"Wait a minute, give us one day more. What do you mean not guilty?
Not guilty of anything at all?"

He left without a single good word, still it was painful.
It was as though everything they had so delicately trampled on,
the last night of the world's passion of dedication -
all this time they kept pressing on in the wrong direction.

They sat there in silence.
"No, not you."
She could not let this high and solemn moment of her life happen casually.

MEAT

He burst in angrily. "When someone's decent to you, you treat them like-"
They wouldn't meet.
They kissed each other's cheeks, took the open book, and went off
and left it lying there on the floor.
They were taken and from time to time did not deign
His despair.