Nothing so far, nothing so far but moonlight where the mind is, nothing in that place
this hold to hold, only their faceless shadows to announce, perhaps they come, nor even do
they know where to they cast them, yet here all that remains when each has been the universe,
no universe but each or nothing, here is the future swell curved round to all that was.
What were we then before the being of ourselves began?
Nothing so far but strangeness where the moments of the mind return, nearly the place was
lost in that we went to stranger places, nothing so far but merely the long familiar
pang of never having gone, and words below a whisper which, if tended as the graves
of life men should be, may bring their names and places home.
It makes a loving promise to itself, womanly, that their more presences are promised than
by the difficult light appear, nothing appears but moonlight's morning by which to count
words to strew the look of day with last night's rid of moths.
, nothing but moonlight's morning by which to count words to strew the look of day with last night's rid of moths.
The people will live on, learning and blundering, people will live on, they will be tricked and
sold and again sold and go back to the nourishing earth for root holes, the people so peculiar
in renewal and come back, you can't laugh off their capacity to take the mammoth rest
between their cyclonic dramas, the people is a classic and comic two face, hero and foodlum,
phantom and gorillas twisting to moan with a gargoyle mask, they buy me and sell me, it's
a shame, sometime I'll break this, now the steel mills cry your eyes, the fire breaks
white and zigzag shot on a gun metal glow, man is a long time coming, man will yet win,
brother, the earth offer may yet line up with, brother, this old anvil, the people yet,
this old anvil that laughs at many broken hammers, there are men who can't be bought,
there are women beyond fertile, the fire born or at home in fire, the stars make no noise,
you can't hinder the wind from blowing, I'm his a great teacher, who can live without hope,
in the darkness with a great bundle of grief, the people march in the night and overhead a
shovel of stars working, the people march, where to, what next, where to, what next,
