Twelve HoursI know what I amTwelve Hours
Twelve hours of cleaning without a stop
I know who I am
Twelve hours of cleaning Soapy water on floor, walls, ceiling The windows are dirty, so I'll clean, wipe, scrub them again after I dust the shades, my friend As I step, I inwardly cringe Footprint on the carpet like a squeaky hinge
I know who I am I spread dinginess and blight a subtle, fatal chaos invisible to the light of the sun, or the light bulbs, flickering I'll clean them, too as soon as I finish what I always fail to finish to do
Darling Letter 003You are correct when you say that I would not like to tread where you do. If I did, I could not walk along side you, nor meet you along the way. I will hear about your adventures after they happen, and I will not enjoy them less. Letters are very like novels.Darling Letter 003
Do not say goodbye with no hope for another meeting; you could never harm me. I will remember you and see you in every face that I see, and that will give me hope, not sorrow, by reminding me that I will see you again.
Do not envy me. Your travels will be just as great. I fear that I shall hear that you are some great hero, just as I am setting off! No, you will
Keeping DustIn a townhouse in New York, full pop cans lay, gathering dust that falls down through the air, air that shouldn't have dust, and it recieves frowns from the face of a man with nothing to say to the cans. In uptown there's a cab waiting, but this is his house, his dust, his cans, and his brown leather chair, neat, unused, so he'll stay. He dare not sit on the chair, nor drink the pop on the counter. They will not be as they used to, and they are so well preserved. If a spot - he looks up in horror, to see everything still perfect, if somewhat old anKeeping Dust
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