title 100 lines id 100-lines genre verse project title autocento of the breakfast table class autocento whenever you call me friend i fall down on my knees and cry because i know it's the only thing never to happen before in this life is something you can't see it's a pillow under a hook shot i want to tell you something anything tell-you but you are there and i am here we are trapped inside ourselves trapped and the distance is too far you are something that i would tell would be nothing before too long you are not the finisher of dreams you are the beginning of nightmares or waking but i'm not sure which this letter is for you in the future it will lead you on the path of goodness or of rightness or of wrong people and right meanings or the meaning will be hidden or wrestling the demon i will have become restless under the starlight it's too bright here to think the negatives would be pitch black darkness of a silver mine there are no trees here where have you been where are you now i am no longer here or there you are anywhere or are you up in the clouds is a ghost he is white and blue like a cloud he paints with his teeth he paints the rainbow before midnight that you can see from your window staring out under the sunlight through the gauze curtains over the high mountain mountain far away that is covered over with snow past the rivers and forests that lie awake under orion hunting the bull that runs forever just out of his reach pointing the way for the two of us to join together in song or dance or that other thing and sing the grinch down off mount crumpet his heart breaking his chest heart thumping with the beat his little dog too running running with the bull full of laughter and blood he can't see it anymore because it's become him we are trapped he says we are trapped in ourselves it turns out that all along it wasn't you or me but he and her or her and him or he and he or she and she or they even they tell us that nothing has happened even they know that it's a big joke one more thing to know before the death we are crying like crocodiles before their loved ones coffins we are bellowing with grief like buffalo on a berth of wild oxen we are wailing our clothes are in rags we want want1 we want want2 we want want3 but never can we get what is it we don't know what it is but it's something it's anything it's too many people or not enough it's too few trees we need more beavers to build riverdams we need grapes too or plums from the ice box or an ice box even would be nice all i have is this cube isn't that right or is a sphere a cube a donut a coffee cup your hands in mine yes that's right now bring the water to your face clear and cool and full of something what is it wanting or yearning i can see in your eyes they're clear now they are as clear as a running stream or the sky that's clear right or the water that is in the bahamas because i hear that's clear you're as clear as the sound of a bell you're as clear as the braying of horses you're as clear as the glass in god's eye and i i'm as dull as an ox plowing through fields in his yoke yoke i'm as dull as clouded amber i'm dull as you find me tonight after dinner i'm reading the crossword you're sitting beside me you're watching tv hook shot theoceanoverflowswithcamels html tell-you lovesong html trapped howtoread html would be nothing no-nothing html nightmares in-bed html letter is for you poetry-time html no trees plant html mountain mountain html heart moon-drowning html little dog too https www youtube com watch v jupxmlz2hym want1 i-wanted-to-tell-you-something html want2 fire html want3 lovesong html plums http www poetryfoundation org poem 245576 braying of horses table contents html yoke last-passenger html