news flash: i have been rooting through the closet in my old room & i have found (among other things a floppy beige felt hat which i am wearing now) a stack-a poems i wrote when i was sixteen. they are predictably awful, just nauseous.
but one of them has a very nice transition between timpani & applause, a little forced, but pretty good for sixteen; & one of them is full of oblivion & love & it ends with an okay ending:
i mean
baby sometimes you just gotta lean your head back
& WAIL
this was right before my anti-beat-pretension phase, which started the autumn i was sixteen & ended, well, hasn't ended & better not end.
