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Middle Earth various issues, 1967-1968
Page 14
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Middle Earth page fourteen marybeth... river cabin 1 its seven thirty in the morning my typewriter is so much junk metal too heavy to be of use my body is so much scrapted tin left over from a windmill i built last night with methedrine and Isd my arm is sore 2 it seems strange but not so very a november morning in iowa is like a beach i know in texas is on any morning or any night 3 matches are in the living room im tired i light one smoke off the butt of the last a poet from baltimore gave them to me earlier when he was a windmill too though maybe not in those words tonight he'll read his words hear applause then leave tomorrow or the next day on reading descartes for adrian i think about descarts and i am you think though i no longer know what we rhink and we are but we are not together maybe i should stop thinking inadequacy you're a poet i called my mother long distance and i said hey momma (three minutes are up; please signal when through) he's a poet wow she said she hoped you took baths but that was okay i told her i knew you did because wetookonetogether then she asked me if i was pregnant (do sperm float?) but i wasn't medical technology is on my side and i won't be i hope at least not in my belly i wish you'd make my head pregnant cause i'd like to write a poem 4 lisa is awake playing outside on frosted mud her dog is eating in the kitchen magic food that makes its own gravy and hes warm there is no food for lisa POEM FOR PATRICK there a war going on somewhere under rain collapsed skies here the skies are blue and blue is freedom on the flag the flag flows too in war but never desecrated to touch the ground where soldiers lay striped with blood to match the flag above above them in the rain somewhere is a man any man who does not fear pain involved dying wet with blood half so much as fears the unreturn and what it means to him words and thought woman smelling of soap and shampoo f chord his hands knew so well on his guitar back home child he wants to see he sees too much before he sleeps m 16 hanging by the bed never made in love and somewhere tears dissolve in the rain to flood the eyes reflecting skies sky blue 5 the neighbors have ducks but i know they are poor my kitchen curtains are closed to their poverty its not that i dislike poverty and screaming redhair women in my scene id rather look to the river for my tears just now
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Middle Earth page fourteen marybeth... river cabin 1 its seven thirty in the morning my typewriter is so much junk metal too heavy to be of use my body is so much scrapted tin left over from a windmill i built last night with methedrine and Isd my arm is sore 2 it seems strange but not so very a november morning in iowa is like a beach i know in texas is on any morning or any night 3 matches are in the living room im tired i light one smoke off the butt of the last a poet from baltimore gave them to me earlier when he was a windmill too though maybe not in those words tonight he'll read his words hear applause then leave tomorrow or the next day on reading descartes for adrian i think about descarts and i am you think though i no longer know what we rhink and we are but we are not together maybe i should stop thinking inadequacy you're a poet i called my mother long distance and i said hey momma (three minutes are up; please signal when through) he's a poet wow she said she hoped you took baths but that was okay i told her i knew you did because wetookonetogether then she asked me if i was pregnant (do sperm float?) but i wasn't medical technology is on my side and i won't be i hope at least not in my belly i wish you'd make my head pregnant cause i'd like to write a poem 4 lisa is awake playing outside on frosted mud her dog is eating in the kitchen magic food that makes its own gravy and hes warm there is no food for lisa POEM FOR PATRICK there a war going on somewhere under rain collapsed skies here the skies are blue and blue is freedom on the flag the flag flows too in war but never desecrated to touch the ground where soldiers lay striped with blood to match the flag above above them in the rain somewhere is a man any man who does not fear pain involved dying wet with blood half so much as fears the unreturn and what it means to him words and thought woman smelling of soap and shampoo f chord his hands knew so well on his guitar back home child he wants to see he sees too much before he sleeps m 16 hanging by the bed never made in love and somewhere tears dissolve in the rain to flood the eyes reflecting skies sky blue 5 the neighbors have ducks but i know they are poor my kitchen curtains are closed to their poverty its not that i dislike poverty and screaming redhair women in my scene id rather look to the river for my tears just now
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