Reckless

I being reckless, you see
forgetting what it means to be
small
little mouse, all grey and eaily lost
in shadows, cobwebs, broken seeds
that should have helicoptered like whisers of
philosophy in autumn

when it was too late and all already undone,
punctured twice,
and, twice,
shy.
Bitten words in golden silence. like the nuns.
like the bats, how they swoop
like dragons
fear the flies, they come with
death

I just climbed too many trees, read
too many books, leafed through paths
of old and longed for dust
and bones of anciant stories
still felt like the brush that sweeps and
reaveals, or clay that clings
till it hardens
in the sun
the golden light
the beams that alights petals, roses,perfume,freedom,lie blown glass through the
leaves, just leaves
and whispers
and silence
and
betrayel

Worst, at such a tender age, i already knew
as far as such knowing ever
knows nothing
know nothing
but whatcan nothing shelter against but cold and quicknowing, all themore
brutal for the not and the until and the then and the after and the next time and time after until
the break, the light, the gleaming, the cunning, the wild, the flight, the fight
the half step shuffleonto apath where you
survive
where you maybe dont get hurt
where, with strive, you maybe more than
survive
where maybe you maye able to save the only
one worth saving

all the truth spindled up

if the cogs dont chew you up first
of course