From where have I returned? There is no telling
Between this morning’s brightness
And the utter, the outer darkness.
The separateness of beings? I cannot stand
This bystanding, our boredwalking over
The opening, the happening of our passing.
Deep emotions, desperate thoughts? I’ve got them
Cornered, spear-weary bristling boars,
And tired of not saying it, I’m all cut up.
Self talking to self? No wonder people
Turn respectable, shutting chatter like
From where have I returned?