the
morning was drizzly,
shedding
sooty tears
that
an angel could not conceal
this
monster I had clothed,
felt
obliged and half-provoked,
to
claim the misfortun’ of intention
he
then fell
into
bondage, a slavery to the tragic mysteries
of
incongruity and argumentative attention
In
a most uncomfortable way,
I
concealed the fact in such strange directions
“This
was all my fault!”
But
mourning stopped suspicion.
“I
frowned it down, not with pleasure though.
I am not a worthy man; but one bound with
considerable disturbances.”