why is it a brightness to besuchness bright in the darkwhy why who lives here with me, seeing fatal light, who stands, who turns?hold hard to what can..
long nightwhen realization comes...i type on a small blue plastictypewriterthere is a bulb in the ceilingthat makesshadows under my handsshadows opera..
there is a womani know,she is trying to find out who she isshe reads poetrythat she wroteabout herself, about places in her imaginationshe crysher chi..
i felt like writing thispoemabout redonly redas i was crossing a streeta memorya realizationof redthat redwas infinitein the night rainredas only red ..
i wrote to everyoneabout the trainsthere is a picture drawn showing steam trainsand another with a woman standing on a platformoffering a flower to a ..