hair which i smooth
hair that i redo
hair that glitters
it costs me something
to be so crisp
in my long wool carapace
with my neck engulfed
and my irritated hand
and my toes which remember 
the heated exhalation of boredom
and my refrigerated being
and my gas burners
which make me more sad
these nights which end
so occidental
i advance my shadow
like a legend
like a man monkey
                Tr by George Wallace