Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Sunday, November 28, 2010

Soliloquy From An Open Fall Window (part 2)

"strange days
in the vortex of megapolis"

-I wanted to write a myth.
I desired to create a made thing.
I was inclined to scrawl the scriptures.
so i tried,
however, i lost it.
but here
we are stripped
bare
of our intentions.
our human-ness lords over us as a muzzle
or is forgotten in a stream of consciousness.
i come here to attempt a memoir of sorts
to tell the story
reenforce a mythos, write the mythos
to "live the dream"
so to speak,
a truly humble task
in some way.

where do we go from here?
i desired to inscribe the seasons on the dingy toenails of god herself.
i wanted, to state it bluntly,
the revolution that will never happen,
the revolt that might.

Fall
is over
and i have two and a half poems left in me.
they go like this:

Fall
is a-burning low out the window
the leaves are on fire
the world
is being killed
and the men
sit and wait
prompt, expectant, bewildered
at the ragged edge of this scorched and burning season.
it'll be laid barren
we will have nothing,
then,
we will be free.

Fall is a motif,
and yet
as well,
a whithering dog.
but it symbolizes nothing,
stands for less,
and i am the man i never was,
have no fucking country,
desire less.

So
where do we
children of this barren place
go
from here
now that we are free?

Let me
in closing,
propose a riddle.

The riddle is pain
the answer is loss
the answer too is inaudible
the earth is a ghost(land)

Fall
whispers back
"is it alive?".

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