Her[t]s (and maybe new balance?)*

I wish I could live

my life

again, or then

again maybe that’d

be for

ferst time:

and to you my dear M,

and then

my once K,

I’d’ve done so much more

to keep yous in mind, not

behind the sore yore

of not knowing who or when

they were watching

me, nor even if they watched

yous and me or us

at all, at


And if four children did

know, and I’m now perfect clear

they could not

not have known, I should’ve

known too, I should’ve known


and I should’ve done so

much more so

the sores I have mentioned

did not run bleedingly open

and weeping all

round the ground-

down lives

which could have flown so

much earlier, and taken

stock – in glorious

bubbling of joyous

tick-tock – those

furious [fu-



we all

did once


For the past has been a di-


ter of hert

ing hearts and souls who believed

there was always much better way,

even when we couldn’t


down or

up the supping

supposition of soupy

broth (and bara


And so M, you are poor and

damaged beyond




g: and the responsibility is

mine: and the reasons are


sorrying, so dreadful


and so K you now

think you are infirm

as the claim, amongst

stools that waver between

barring you from

seeing the truth

as you once did so


and from

giving you a strength to

recall your perspicacity

of other much sore-

less moment of



And so the lives of two

grand women

have been tampered

with and trampled

by and tracked and typed and

measured with

a terrible terrible cruelty: and the

cruel one

am I

and I deserve only now to die.*

* And yet, even in these moments

of final des-

pairing, where my future does

lie in solitude and sad

lonely lonely, and the

dirty dirty of

dirty duty does

pursue my soul

until it is proper sole,

even here and

even now my nature

love of life and its

goods I still

believe and retrieve

and relieve in like

nothing yous ever will


does still hold out

hope that C’s damn belief in the

better side and space and

life and live and thrive and

love I might also be

responsible for one curious day,

one such 


day, might rescue us all

from the big sad of hate

and bring us before too late

to hold hands –


time – before we do sigh,

and before we do




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