la madeleine

2010-08-05 | 1:03 a.m.

O the Proustian
Waking dream
That is life...
And a moment arresting me
In the throws of a moment past.
A tangle of limbs,
Or parcels pinched,
A mouth on a mouth
Turned a soul
Like a wrench.
The features
Are creatures-
Impressionist teachers...
The distant pacing preachers
Of life coming undone
I'll walk there
I'll drive there
Ride the writhing tide there
To get some fucking idea
Of what I have become.

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