st. leonard touched a philistine
a sacred tongue, a perfect rhyme
but even he was "not much nourished
by modern love."
so i told her that everything she does is divine and she replied with a blank expression
(an object lesson
in making me feel benign) then whispered,
"independence and indifference
are the wings which allow the heart to fly."
feelings i've had too often,
still no plan in place to soften
the inevitable blow
(the rituals we know).
and with the right revolting piety of tone,
the word "freedom"
can make you want to lock yourself in a deep dark dungeon.
but i know everybody follows pleasure,
everybody gets somewhere.
i swear,
i wish i could be less aware...
now it's absolutely clear to me
that solitude is not the same as singularity,
but that's not why i'm lonely.
