THE WORLD
The world is so over and over and done, and all I
get is this picture. My legs and arms ache - running
the revisionist hills to find logic to make anything sensible
make sensible sense : there is nothing for this placement
to place. A mirage can double as a mirror, or a hole; one
from which you can never return. See me, see me now -
my hands are playing fire over kindling of silent wood.
-
This world is like a baby; abused, neglected, and then,
finally thrown headlong off a fifty-foot ledge to the
oh-so-sold ground below. Really, we can do nothing
about it all. The man with holes in his head, counting
the petals on a daisy, backwards, countdown, downward:
ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two. Zero!
The world is so over and over and done, and all I
get is this picture. My legs and arms ache - running
the revisionist hills to find logic to make anything sensible
make sensible sense : there is nothing for this placement
to place. A mirage can double as a mirror, or a hole; one
from which you can never return. See me, see me now -
my hands are playing fire over kindling of silent wood.
-
This world is like a baby; abused, neglected, and then,
finally thrown headlong off a fifty-foot ledge to the
oh-so-sold ground below. Really, we can do nothing
about it all. The man with holes in his head, counting
the petals on a daisy, backwards, countdown, downward:
ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two. Zero!
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