Cleaning to Be Done

Depicting everything, no philosophy, not much talk,
cleaning to be done. Scrub—scrub until the mind’s gone.
Not too behaviourally based. Fighting over the word.
There was me, Pan, and a stone being thrown
miles away from where I thought I’d find myself; but d’you know what happens
with a stone’s throw? Like a tree falling? It’s felt anyway:
I was like a midwife from that angle. I’ll try not to put

this in. This is something like a phase and I see mania
in the eyes of my craft when they go beyond opposites—
when there’s only us to face. Marlon Brando and big jumps
over tree trunks are going to need navigating.
Everyone you speak to sits with you for days, no?
You’re being silly just to stay attached to this bar?
All a shot of the darkness. Though I feels you feeling.