The Many Sizes of Infinity

Published in Everyone's a fucking poet! 1995

to obviate more 
my circumstances
would have been
criminally difficult

the coffee cup fell and shattered into hundreds of ceramic shards, i
stepped on several dozen of these and it did my feet no good i
nonetheless do not hold a grudge against coffee, or its containers,

i could have written
a brilliant novel
if only i knew 
more adjectives

i think i love because i want to love, not for the alluring gilded
shackles of unpaid psychotherapy & i think i have made this clear, as
clear as the bells of old Bowie, as clear as windowpane, clear as

in spite of 
my sorrows
i have 
too much faith

i was nauseous, and will back my pronunciation with the point of a
knife, i've reached the point of total abandon, total fatigue, total
determination, obstinance, callous silence and the assassination of

because we fly
into the eye
of hurricanes 
sometimes we die

sleep is a five-letter word, but who's counting? my rage approaches
like a hitchhiker and often comes from around the world, stealing rides
like information seeping through telephone lines. one ring. two.

it's simple
to derive
the pleasure of
the simple

i want to say that i'm cut like a diamond, my mouth gorged with blood &
my face angled and scarred, it's a terrible sight to the untrained eye
and may cause blindness, to whom i'm not sure. beware.

uh huh
ummm hmm

it was the buddha who said "all life is suffering" and there was more
he did not say, and to this i take silent heed and give large ears with
little expectation, like understanding the many sizes of infinity.


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