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, etc. 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 ghost. 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 crows. 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. hmmmmm uh huh ummm hmm mmmmm 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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