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Who is everybody? And why does physical appearance mean so much?

Except when it means nothing at all?

And the former judgement we had of looks makes us feel petty and small?

And we settle into an appreciation of the mind

And affectionately we touch

The small and deformed hand

Of a lovely soul, and know ourselves to be kind.

Who is everybody? And is it their story which matters most,

Or is there a certain spirit which makes them who they are,

Ineffable! Details of life cannot change their unique ghost,

Their soul unalterable. Conversing with them, glimpsing them from afar,

Hello! There you go! Harvey Goodfellow Wintergarden! Yes! Here you are!

And whether you find them in bed, naked, or see them age,

Or grow angry—never sadder than when Harvey fell into a rage!

You know them stamped forever as no one but themselves.

The posts on the pier—look, they are stiff and unmoving—

But in the water—my perception of them!—they are like the water, gently moving.

Who is everybody? When we hear someone for the first time, speak,

The physical—as voice—takes revenge, and it changes how we perceive their physique.

Who is everybody? What is the mystery of everybody? Who

Does cruel things? Oh God, cruel things! Just because they are you?

This picturesque landscape contains ancient houses and a bee.

Who is neglectful? Gentle but neglectful? Forgetting life? Me.

The girl looks at her phone, gets in her car, and drives away.

You thought you knew her but you don’t know her at all, today.

The physical is revenge. Movements in your mind. Like the planets. Revenge!

Who is everybody? They are standing in a circle, like the stones at Stonehenge.












  1. June 9, 2018 at 12:08 am

    Me, I’m nobody …

    • Desdi said,

      June 9, 2018 at 9:37 pm

      Show me that I’m everywhere . . .
      and get me home for tea.

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