The thing that always aroused anger before, this time inspired a raging tenderness

And I forgot what he had said about having never heard of a crime he couldn't imagine committing himself  /    and    finally       we   were well on    our way   to understanding    one another's    dainty /  sublime   / blame  ed for     prayers about       what ecstasy   our daddies   died   to    and   in          the fits   of  demented  sugar rubbing hoods   of their wooden blood   like private  leaders of the occult order we shrug  off as    pop  or   patent leather leotards   that zip v's  in the  front   of weeping   grinning  idols  or  subtle  abuses   of power that add up to     numb          I had   some   to say  /  some - thing,  I  mean  or  (thingness of the thing )  I had that and was about to bring it on stage   in   blind  pink    apertures      I  was  drunk   in a way where you do the Cabbage Patch   on the dance floor in public    and   genuflect    to invisible ghost  soldiers   as late   as the door shuts   behind you at sunup,   at fast   justice /   faster       cuddle with the newspaper  until it   makes   musty  tattoos   on your radiance  or don't  be           Puttering around in the proof of our oneness ,  all these new attitudes   toward    your very own     and  so coveted  / dissatisfaction    /    have  become the optimistic masks        that  keep us elaborate     clowns   in the cattle     feeling   guilty     for   joy    for sorrow     for the grotesque irony   of nearness these days  when      nothing will ever end     again