here's something the wayback machine kicked out. I bravely took a glimpse into my archives, even the typewriter stuff, and found this one. written in 1972, before I hit 20. one of those poems that arrive like a vision, even with a voice in my head. I eventually elided some of the repetitions, but I'm happy now to put them back in. I won't make any more excuses znd in fact must say this poem isn't indicative of the work I did then. world's slowest learner here.

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Faust


faust come back it is not the winter and
how you look then com back and see the things we
have seen crawling in may they are brighter and craving

shadows last night were strong and followed alongingly with
the wave of the trees and
the steps that we walked... faust
come back in another year and will see... faust
with magic will appear, appear and
appear and looking and looking and appear
lately he comes riding in our shadows in my shadows and the
calm of a morning he rider of the purple sage and
beckons like wheatfields blowing he
gestures in himself looking out faust
you can melt and fold as the climate changes freeze
if the breeze is strong and bitter and
relax i think just as well faust come
back and thrill me and a lady will appear and smile and
whelp in the night and wallow in the night and slide and
trick and the thing left behind, things you left behind did
you take them in account did they
smile later that night is this a
bitter plan? faust in your blessing we can return
and return and faust who
is the fool faust you blessed pig you squirming vulture ran
into a surprising wall faust the last dance was for you you
missed it faust

fuckin pine trees swaying in the way i
intend to say this and this and this, and forge your
mean forgetfulness and listen to the river piss is
brains thru the countryside but but THIS is what will
be said, faust come back come back it is not winter and
how you look then come back and see the things we have
seen crying and chuckling we have have seen in may
when the trees are lighter in blossoms and the rains dont
bear down like the falling of the leaves and things are
brighter and craving now and burning by our deeds come
back faust come back into the night where another day beckons