Now that I know
How passion warms little
Of flesh in the mould,
And treasure is brittle,–
I’ll lie here and learn
How, over their ground
Trees make a long shadow
And a light sound.
Addicts
We’re addicts, we’re not happy unless we’re ecstatic.
Splinters for the kaleidoscope,
When we’re sad we’re pathetic.
We dilate fantastic.
If it’s a graze, it’s a grope.
We’re addicts, we’re not happy unless we’re ecstatic.
A derelict automatic —
Who can wake or think of soap?
When we’re sad, we’re pathetic.
We’re front page, magnetic,
When life’s a bottomless pile of dope.
But we’re addicts, we’re not happy unless we’re ecstatic.
The mirror turns septic
The bottom-most pinch of hope.
And when we’re sad, we’re pathetic.
Life as an elastic
Keeps most of us from the rope.
We’re addicts, we’re not happy unless we’re ecstatic.
When we’re sad, we’re pathetic.