Ladders have begun
To disseminate my mental state,
Unpacked and re-packed
Long term storage boxes,
Dusty cardboard napkins.
Zigzagged metropolitan markets
With wicker baskets lined
With checkerboard napkins
And leftover spices
Under soiled paper napkins.
This night train is lonely
When the lights flicker just so,
I spend spare moments of memory
Re-reading the same four lines
Written on a folded square napkin.
Her hands will die
Maker’s shoulder
Sifting clean sheets
Un-kept wicker
Lie not to her
Monotonous
Cold cold flower
Hold not wishes
Wind blows strong here
Lives hold on with
Tall tall top hats
Blurry shading
All I’ve covered
Dying grasses
Loudly told me
Surrender youth
Make me love her
Dying oak tree
Make me cry here
Falling dead leaves
Take me home my
Lonesome lover
Take me past all
Reverie then
And if this aye
Shall swerve this goat
To set me free
Shall make an end
Then ere warned
Five thousand shorn
A gooses neck
Death brings this end