it seems
that to severe
severe before from after,
require
to gather,
put
together
in make up the
rest,
so needed.
fill in, full in
espose,
the past,
and bring lght to as Jozsef Attilla in thefuture,
as He woud have had it, to himself,
inthe present,
his present, to him-self,
as he would have been, as i would
in an anterior world,
images full, requirements met.
where sleep eclipses wake,
where delirium lays under a slight leeting cover
let,
as is in that painting by that english romantic.*
so few flowers now,
the past as reliefs of
which faded glory,
naive men, young and futurist
inclined to rock,
roll, the plain in spain
tilting to the west,
ferlinghetti in commier world,
when the rocks were hot,
as the delirium of your breath,
the solvenitzhin of your desire,
if i die yet, i would or could
know, i can take you along
into eyernity with, now, as
if words be,
immortal, and all th missed could have missed you
me, with (even in park griffith overlooking the
cavernous emptiness of the blnding glare , the dead chevies longinly indisposed in their own graveyard)
junk for the future my friend,
jozsef, your soul persosted and caught me, imbalanced,
a similar act, but oh so deeply the precipice beckons,
he wuld have offerd you the world and it’s kingdoms, and yet, you gracefully declined,
so as to enable to write somebody,
the lines, strung,
as would a spider,
string a bridge, over the precipice hart crane also,
could’ve transgressed.