Ambiguity of Passion (draft

There are two classes of men

To one , desire is always a simile
Which names its object a dozen names
Images, papering over a fundamental blindness
Passion, an ejaculation into absolute zero
Or if, by chance, a target is struck
The child is orphaned - this is essential

The deity carries a sack of gifts
Man, regrettably, is not as fecund

In imitating the generous deity, another man
Makes no public show
As the Master counsels, makes his prayers in private
Appearing as a winter lake
A fruit's seed, which waits, a nd while waiting
Bears the idea of the mature fruit - requiring earth

Recklessness possibly germinates
Prudence possibly dries up

Distances

Standing on a road
A dirt road
Holding a set of keys in your hand
Turning them up - down - around a finger
Listening to the sounds

For some reason it feels "cool" to do it

It's cool out
The vegetation lowers itself
To graze the gravel
And dances around it like
A bunch of green feathers

On some guy's head in a crazy dance

Below that a curvature
Turns the road out of sight
It goes down, left, right
Up a bit rollercoastering
Down again

Until it hits a sunwarmed blacktop

Then spirals down, less relaxed
Than the stream rushing alongside it
To where its business enters something larger
But the business of the road, something smaller
A box, a hedge, a tool, a meal

Each reflecting things differently

It is 12 and a half miles to town
And 7 feet from the edge of the dirt road
To an old rock which has moss on one side
And two flowers near the other
But a horizontal, floating body
Doesn't even require a steering wheel

In the first case. Can't cover the second
Distance in the time the sun took to form
And then burn down to ashes.