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Pentultimate Second Other

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Rivering backwards, upside-down, inward spinning forward,

the tumbling tickings and clock tockings of my heart are off. Way off.

Somewhere before the breast of the robin touched upon the plum tree,

my sullen sailor started in with the drunk talk again. It never ends.

 

Every single time I rest and wait in the willowy water fronds splashing,

just pitter-rippling like a mimosa's pinkness flutters in the breeze,

that foul-mouthed friend comes stumbling in, reeking about Love this,

Love that, and everyone's got to get some kind of motions and such open,

yanking me around and forcing me to take his stale kisses, open-mouthed.

 

I never wanted that from Him, never asked to be a Concubine to His Now.

I used to wander like a lamb, palming the Dawn's Huuu like a bird,

like a bird so fragile it might disappear if I looked at it too closely.

There were days, and so long the nights when Beloved just held me, Held.

 

What kind of sad misfortune has tossed Mazie like an alley-cat outside?

And on a full-mooned rising cat-carousing, anything goes kind of Night!

Poor dove-faced innocent, used to be so loveable, so nearly pristine!Now,

Ha! You strut about like you had the biggest set, now there you go!

Now there you go again, God, God, there you go again, open-sewer mouth!

What kind of Love could ever have this amount of control over someone?

 

Surely it must be the Boundless Breath of HUU, the still-fragrant Kiss!

Perhaps, oh just maybe, we can fool the flowers back to bloom here!

Maybe we can all just turn around and let me leave the room quietly,

my re-entrance might be more effective with a band playing! Yes! Song!

Allow me my little madnesses, my crazy mazie God rants, my Love-Howls.

 

Allow this poor lost mystic drunk, this wanderer in Audacity, a break.

When ever did talking, the TALKING about a thing make it harm anyone?

Saying "Boo!" to small children makes then run and cry, but no one dies.

Saying God wants to show me his goods has no more strength than a gnat!

A gnat that that's boxing his shadow for three days and then acts tough!

 

I can only be His broken Promise, His last Gasp, His utter Non-Contempt,

His absolutely falling all over Himself in Laughter at your Folly.

 

 

Love,

Mazie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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> Rivering backwards, upside-down,

 

Hee, hee, Mazie,

 

My canoe and I did this with Mary once at Pachaman Terris. We got wet.

 

 

Love, Mark

ps oh darn, I wanted to find a wegsite about pachaman terris (sp?),

but apparently there was a Frederick Franks who was a famous military

man, who dominates the search engine results. Hey Mary, do I have

things spelled right?

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