Old Friends

T.S. Eliot and Allen Ginsberg
Speak to me as if old friends
Who knew me well.

The secret will knows no presumptions,
Perpetual angelus,
The familiar function.

What could bring me back again?
Who can really tell?

I've fallen gently forward,
Sit in time
And time be still.

I'm a traveler,
Future foraging
For something

I would say,
Can only mention.
The truth speaks louder still.

I laugh for attention
And marvel at my inventions
Like a headstrong child.

If only I could be quiet and uncaring,
The way to move a mountain.

Querry,

Speak to me,
Tell me anything,

Truth-speak;
You know, and I know
Exactly what I mean.