I
Despite what you may
have heard, or perhaps deduced,
I am not St. John of the Cross.
I am moving through
Providence Place and
wistful for this world
in its many forms.
I am longing to screen-print.
II
Don’t you miss that routine of
near touching?
My god,
you ate lunch
and I changed my path just
to be closer to you,
to know you,
to appraise or
take audit of you –
I heard some of the ‘young
chums’ were in this evening.
In that instant I despised you.
III
It is your gathered,
templar tongue I take the
time to hear – it is often
more bold than not.
There is too much to see
and do, so
I am sick with instances.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_tv49Or7tZ7D3DeGfy_DPf9f-lyv9DWeTlyC2n6efw1R7Pm16da9ikz2suIm5kdY36IHqjWXfXQ3nkxlXU9tgZl5bE_IzuW-uqZW6PeZ0QvU31U8TjwPXdr12oNjg-vnV3CuzH2vIAuPaMz2Pw=s0-d)
Despite what you may
have heard, or perhaps deduced,
I am not St. John of the Cross.
I am moving through
Providence Place and
wistful for this world
in its many forms.
I am longing to screen-print.
II
Don’t you miss that routine of
near touching?
My god,
you ate lunch
and I changed my path just
to be closer to you,
to know you,
to appraise or
take audit of you –
I heard some of the ‘young
chums’ were in this evening.
In that instant I despised you.
III
It is your gathered,
templar tongue I take the
time to hear – it is often
more bold than not.
There is too much to see
and do, so
I am sick with instances.
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