Henry, edged, decidedly, made up stories
Lighting the past of Henry, of his glorious
Present, and his hoaries,
All the bight heals he tampedâ€” â€”Euphoria,
Mr Bones, euphoria. Fate clobber all.
Â€”Hand me back my crawl,
Condign Heaven. Tighten into a ball
Elongate & valved Henry. Tuck him peace.
Render him sightless,
Or ruin at high rate his crampon focus,
Wipe out his need. Reduce him to the rest of us.
Â€”But, Bones, you is that.
Â€”I cannot remember. I am going away.
There was something in my dream about a Cat,
Which fought and sang.
Something about a lyre, an island. Unstrung.
Linked to the land at low tide. Cables fray.
Thank you for everything.