I am an enigma to myself.
B. O’D.
noble wings I grow
when I take meh self out
of meh self
but I find that too hot to handle
for too long
so I take meh self into
meh self again & find there caverns of cold
eclipsed fears
& in there too some romans
catholics probably
standing around a grave
come not near meh I cry I have elapsed!
(like I'm an offer too good to countenance
or a nag whose racing days are done -
& so I take
meh self out of meh self again
& there you are
floating in the stillborn air master & I -
guide & follower
rolled into one
chaff bag
fit to burst with oats & dried fruits master
I ask you to consider now that I
take meh self into the bodies of meh mates
& they into meh self too
consider now meh limbs aka
mates three of them carring a coffin towards
a hole in the sky oh fred jim & ted
struggle
with meh profane weight while eva looks on
it's like a painting you might see reproduced
in some magazine sent over from London or
your States
the tragedy of it!
at meh own
funeral, completely self-aware,
dead & only
just twenty four
barely married too
barely alive
more of a scapegrace than ted
oh his light-
hearted lope I would pay gold
to have it for meh walking rhythm
now
the moon looks down
on the meh self
I knew
& the meh
that cannot be
meh
self.