Embracing my history
without being a part
of it, a party to it.
Enraged by history.
Doing nothing about
it. Without it where
would I be but nowhere?
Studying history, mine,
yours. Sitting in imagin
ary zazen, a mind full of
vivid sexual fantasies un
waveringly clear, the yes
terday of yesterday’s last
year. Its grandfather and
its grandfather’s great-
grandfather, to whom you
ask for the definitions of
freedom, of bountiful and
opulence. Dispensing with
history to reveal the nothing
ness of the present, of pres
ence. Really look around
without wondering outside
of now, each shallow diorama
a geometry of lust. The
removal of all narrative.
Then. Snapping out of it
the trajectories come alive.
This electric aiming toward,
a leaning forward. Am I
making history dance back
wards or shuffle its feet? If
so, I will step out of the way,
not be a means to an end.
Else gather myself, get
my bearings. And propel.
