ONLY INTENTIONS

218. ONLY INTENTIONS:

An inchoate sensation cannot be described - bells in the ear a buzzer ringing soundly the whoosh of wind on fallen leaves the 'feeling' of repeating something you've surely gone through before (the deja vu of the wheelbarrow man) - all of that is part of the great creative jumble of what can only be called 'life' : limited means borrowed phrases misapprehended emotions broken intentions scattered needs and erstwhile deeds too : and deep within myself this is ALL I know the part and parcel of my makeup shilling silently along the way weeding remnants of my past and little parts of memory which lead to deadends alone : man's makeup is in creation and man's Freedom comes from separation : there is no reality but that which we make and that creation adheres then to all things (I mark you well running and I savor your disappearance just as much) - and the end result was that I added it all up and it came - finally - to nothing and my choices were clear and easy to make DEATH OR LIFE basically and not much else (I held the stammer to my heart and heard the shuddering repetition of what there was : the steam train pumped on the long drone of the iron whistle and the electric cars along the waterway with boats and motors churning the light evasions of the people at the bar the lackeys and the losers together looking out the parasols of the young and the wandering motions of the hand-fed monstrosity that was society and money and fame : as the girls chugged like bathwater their amber liquids they sat with their legs outstretched or their legs wide open and informally they thought about really nothing at all - just talking superficial sex and satisfaction homes and career where they went and why they're here and all the rest - the usual balderdash of entrapment and the wheedling sum of ten nations at rest as the zooming men clambered aboard calling each other for attention - the phone men and the clerks the construction guys the bankers and jerks - when boy meets boy ne'er the twain shall meet and a fist takes the place of a handshake nowadays and 'that's how I entered the lyrical slavery of those olden days' the fat one said).