BellsHansEllison

“On my school notebooks
On my desk and the trees
On the sand on the snow
I write your name,

On all flesh that says yes
On the forehead of my friends
On every hand held out
I write your name,

On absence without desire
On naked solitude
On the stairs of death
I write your name,

On health that has returned
On danger that has left
On hope without memory
I write your name,

And by the power of the word
I renew my life
I was born to know you
And to name you,

Liberty”

The only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.