June 2, 1963

"When you feel bad, that's when you start tearing "me apart" these words come to me from the dark.

I'm fed-up - I want to leave - it seems as if I am where I was 6 years ago (come to think of it I've always been at the front of departure - but pain "holds me up") always in the mind there's a place, and yet the illusoriness of the distance and the groupings that so define it, "fashion" tremors in the anticipation of the movement. We do however, "manage to reckon the number of steps we've ascended or descended in time (in other words how the hell did we get here).
They came in droves and we sat down on a bench by the lake. Birds fluttering in grass, children running under leaves ("dark waves" under pliant strips of light). After the noise we returned home (a day spent amid "decidousness " - all "degrees of exploitation" manifesting "themselves" as a group phenomenon - an "individual confronted, just a nice guy, unaware of the "injustices" giving himself up to the salubriuosness of Central Park - when placed in his natural habitat of stinking poverty, his crestfallen tenement face is a excrescent manifestation of direful individual exploitation. The air its tremulousness - all things under the sun: thus we pass thru and we don't even weep. -

Courtsey of The Fales Library, Special Collections, New York University.


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