one more Saint Augustine... in a moment of devaneio

i throw myself on the floor as the little pieces of paper gently ripple
on. i still think of things gone by
as heads the we wore like dylan said
waiting in the cold rain for your mother to come
still listening to the tunes you were playing me as you changed
from one thing to other and i saw
the flaps of coco-birds that fluttered round your head
clean while we waited for the movies
that crammed down your through in nights of passion
silent-
ly weeping and laughing things unread from mouth to mouth and soul to
keep to itself as time of nothing, worth to speak as
people are constantly silent of the things they do
(i blunt a song in all apparent ways)
what could we, but keep clear of sins and time
by little paper lies we hid so well before
the clocks unrambled misshaped auras of your hair
in times of fair forgotten corpses
with daffodils and all those things we wore
before the aging screams of hairs and parted older yells
came out the door
and swimming found that life was loves embrace
in paper made origamis and disgrace
As I lay by the floor…

as i
i dreamed i saw Saint Augustine
smashing doors and running around with peas...