A lot of Them
I was your imagination
a mouth turns into a mouse
turns into a cat
When people look at me
they see something i do not see
What is it like...
When they see/
What they see/
Do they truly see the best of me?
I was your imagination
a mouth turns into a mouse
turns into a cat
When people look at me
they see something i do not see
What is it like...
When they see/
What they see/
Do they truly see the best of me?
i take my place
amongst the citizenry
facing
the status-quo austerities
with
pitiful
degree
of patience
In the beginning
there were
no named things
And so
there was Nothing,
the womb of wisdom
CIRCULATING
Living as the threshold
LETTING GO
of the injurious hold
Only my Lyft driver
knows for sure
Im smashing my face
into a new mantle
Im joining
both sides of the grain,
both for and against
Ive witheld money
from myself
and laughed directly
in my face,
slammed the door
on myself
and door
after door etcetera
From the ceiling
i see myself
jolt in my sleep
at the sound of
faces falling
onto the floor
I see myself roll over
onto my left side wearing
a subtle pungeant grimace
I take my place along the floor,
the body is too me.
Get it out now
The prognosis is
über-silence
I commiserate with the walls
our stiffnesses,
how we wish
an earthquake would
happen while we are
holding this old ceiling I look down at the floor and ask,
"Were you using right speech!"
Wall is me;
my rat generation's overdue
Dear Self,
I was lost on you