Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Friday, September 11, 2009

dying to know

i can remember every word scrawled on past pages for you
thus, this is nothing but a reminder that, out there, bouncing all around the midnight father sky, this innate possibility IS small, but IS also beautiful.
small IS beautiful, you see.
and i, always claiming no knowledge spitting knowledge to the now kids who now kid with me of my knowledge, can't say i am above telling you of my father's jokes.
see, he made me smile today, and that can happen from time to time
when we, not bound by time, use timely wit about how no time is better than that no time
and someday, and this just a hunch, but someday, in this myth called time, they'll find my poems and wonder who you may have been. but you are you.
can't be no one else.
and the most random (things) come to me on 9/11. not just sheer happiness, i feel the wrong women and men died that day, what a crappy tragic false flag attack
as politikill as it gets
the sink says out of order

comes chaos
and dad can always make me laugh
math graphs of pre-acid trash pasts just don't add
up
and away went our freedumb
the isms is the enemies
i say
the isms is the enemies
and the TIMES is a, umm, changin?
still, we build skilled wills until all the shrill pills of swillville make us ill.
choking on chess sets of slit-throat pens
when
i say 'anything'
you say 'why'd he say anything?'

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