untitled eight
"I have but one friend, Echo; and why is Echo my friend? Because I love my sorrow, and Echo does not take it away from me. I have only one confidant, the silence of the night; and why is it my confidant? Because it is silent." |
sitting here midst sunlight that is not i wonder of the young young woymn and the men all wreathed in smoke from fires surrounding bits of them...one sits in his garage all lonely and benign the others working always on their lawns and cars and drinking beer all friendly with each other god damn what do they talk about not me, oh boy, not me would rather be here looking down all wrapped in silence oh yes that is the ledge from which i choose to seek from here the world can come to me or me to it not them i need but freedom freedom freedom... jeremiah johnson borges the wolverine who jumps mid chest to make a point oh yes better than burning an aviary poor winged ones flying high and higher trying to avoid the flames that singe and curl their hollow bones the pain the pain i wish to be like each not lonely no, not either but just me flying high or low to avoid the fire that cleanses... so points are made, impressions detentions...mine must ravage rip and tear to cause the swarm to wildly spread in panic just as if a wolf was midst their midst...there are those who care to cause no ripple these are the quiet ones shallow tender creatures paddling freely in their fabrications...but the Others these are part of Me...the Shadow Ones defending the periphery invisible yet standing just beyond the pale. so god must be? oh no says i no, no perhaps he is she isnt perhaps then what to all the believers am i wrong for that for requiring some proof? oh no am not in the wrong for that oh no for i decided long ago to be a god create deny depart arrive give life take it too who knows how easy it is to each who knows do you bet not beware for sure youll never see the cloak all wrapped in darkness coming slowly in the light... |