windmills and other fears

my dear dear the letter will follow the dots I was to scribble pages front and back the songless letters and whitness of stationery chased rests of the meaning away my dear dear curled up inside mine me but trying to fight windmills funny and strange white transparent voice is calling me from under the paintings from top of the trees the tattared blossoms bloom my name my dear dear stumbling over and over glancing through astonished by-walkers forgetting faces forgetting names my dearest dear hiden under eyelashes painted chicks worn out habits black coffees the letter will follow the dots they puzzle the game while windmills start yawning my name