I wonder how things sit within your mind.
Call yourself kind where I feel you unkind?
Do you hold to treasures I regard as rind;
do you reel-in things I have left behind?
Are you seeking what you cannot now find;
deem yourself wise where I see you as blind,
feel stark distress as you try to unwind?
Do you think of me, or shut me out of mind?
I wonder how things stack up in your head,
whether you ponder what I take as read,
step lightly now or print a weary tread,
still shudder at the deep wounds we have bled,
sleep easy now without me in your bed,
Happy with your try-outs in my stead?
But plus is minus, North and South see red:
false, these polarities in troubled head.
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YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poesia"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
