Wednesday, April 28, 2010

mclxxiii

Sentimental

What of my lovely friends?   Now
there’s a sentence!   And who advocates
argument?   “I do!   I do!”

Nothing tastes right.   Everything is
soggy and dull.   But the iced tea
is pretty good.   I’m trying to

drown myself in it.   And then,
thirty-six pages into it, absolute
shivers.   Up and down and all around!

We have a concept of justice
Despite the fact that assymetry is ubiquitous
And constantly throws things off-balance.   But then

We are a tilted species....
(Lyn Hejinian)
I sit comfortably in a bed on the side of a mountain.
The bed is horizontal to what?   Which lies in

a thicker reality: the mountain, the bed, or me?
Obviously, I’ve mis-stated everything.
Two people are giggling where

giggling isn’t allowed.   With lips tersely pursed,
onlookers, those respecting The Golden Rule
of Silence
, hone in on the gigglers.

No man is an island?   I am the very template
of narcissist: I am suffering from the loss
of what it means to really know someone.

Meanwhile the fawns graze and the
turkeys gobble.   And I recline
into the comfortability of

horizontal giving lectures to my
friends in my head.   Imaginary friends.
Imaginary head.   Imaginary horizontal.