Wilderness: The Lost Writings, Vol. 1

I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes. I am struck by the feather of your soft reply. The sound of glass speaks quick, disdain and conceals what your eyes fight to explain.

The Night is young & full of rest I can’t describe the way she’s dress’d She’ll pander to some strange requests Anything that you suggest Anything to please her guest.

No one thought up being. He who thinks he has, step forward.

Tell them you came, and saw, and looked into my eyes and saw the shadow of the guard receding. Thoughts in time and out of season, the hitchinker stood by the side of the road and levelled his thumb in the calm calculus of reason. [...] Why does my mind circle around you? Why do planets wonder what it would be like to be you? All your soft wild promises were words, birds, endlessly in flight.

In the holy solipsism of the young Now I can't walk thru a city street w/out eying each single pedestrian. I feel thier vibe thru my skin, the hair on my neck --- it rises.

[...] My wild words slip into fusion and risk losing the solid ground. So stranger, get wilder still. Probe the highlands.

She dances in a ring of fire and throws off the challenge with a shrug.

The grand highway is crowded with lovers and searchers and leavers so eager to please, and to forget. Wilderness