| A poem of mine. The title comes from The Waste Land. I can't stand the summer in Kentucky, especially summer days. I try to sleep through them. I usually succeed, but sometimes I don't. When I don't, something compels me to, despite the weather, walk aimlessly around town for hours. The town looks so different while the sun is shining.
Burning Burning Burning
While this sun shines down
Searing holes into my eyes and mind
I feel the futility of these too many hours.
And this dust dries my mouth:
Cast it aside, cast it aside. [5]
I pray for the damp and cool:
Drops of London rain
In this most un-London of towns.
The night, and graves with stone saviours
That seem to turn to watch; [10]
A girl with eyes painted black
Showing years of pain and joy
Burning cool with youth and wisdom
(The motley, you see, is a ruse)
These things I long for [15]
But instead the world is suffused
With the orange glow of cosmic embers
And my lips find only ash.
-- Neil Moore
The statues that seem to turn and watch are in Calvary Cemetery, across the street from the Lexington Cemetery. The gates are rusted open, so you can enter at any hour, though with dubious legality. The girl is my friend Jen, who has the most expressive eyes I have ever seen, and puts a trapezoid of black eyeliner on the lower half of each upper eyelid; though I have never seen her wear a full motley, she does have a black and white jester's cap. | 
