he was harsh with himself Whya draggin yer heels man? Shit. Or get off the pot, ya’ve been
sidesteppin this piece for weeks.
he wasnt inappropriatefuckin
accurate
but while he was he he was still
him an he wasnt better than his phantomNo no phantom half he wasnt a spook not a conscience but another facet off the stone out of which he
was cut
Bide yer time Dont get yer
panties in a bunch him in panties always
made him laughcracked him up
I’m trying to be patience.
My patience is longer than yours
I didn’t name my cock Patience.
I didnt say you did Im sayin be patience In good timegood time
so he bit his tongue always over the top he bit into his tongue and spat blood around
him
Provocateur
Sometimes ya gotta dig your spurs
in.
We dont ride horses
I wasn’t talking horses.
Whores
That’s my boy. Worry about you sometimes.
Dont worry about me If not me no you
Ouch.
Bitin yer tongue had to hurt
worse
Temporary.
everything is temporary
everything believed anchored isnt
temporal
the reason why we dig in to remember the best we can live the best we
can be conscious alert present
it passes like fine sand through our fingers clutching clutching nothing held
we are particles
he tried to be a happy particle
as best he could
happy particles though have to
suffer too the trick is not to suffer
more than being happy
he thought he was doing a good
jobthey were doing a good job
Thank you.
As I said If not me no you
I’m just saying thank you. Take
it.
Thank you
cinematic auras blinded him
their crimsonyellow mornings lavenderpurple evenings haunting
him
he walked on a gravel road with a
woman
she wore a robe a shawl she didnt
show her face
luminous eyes
she was small
ahead of them a vehicle was pulled across the
road
armed men
beyond them clamoured people
children
suddenly the children like a flock of gulls flew overhead and landed before them
the vehiclethose inside without pause opened fire a hail of
bullets raggedwhispers of arms
the children deflected the bullets
they whined overhead
they draft in the childrens fearlessnesstheir unafraidness
and they walked asif they were walking in another time or reality
there is murder behind them a crescendo of screams other wailing children shrieking
but they were nonchalant to the
cries of the carnageunaffected by the death the dying the wounded
they walked on the gravel road which
peaked like a drawbridge over the armed vehicle the bloodblinded men and arrived at a thin ramshackled house of bamboo and rice
paper inkdecorated panels
and with the children they fell
asleep
he talked with ghosts as he slept
they stood in profile
thin as flamesquivering like
flames
and nothing they said made any sense to him
they said it would
later
I bit my tongue for that?
Not really Biting it now or later wouldnt have made the dream more tangible
Dreams are at the fringe of reality and
not unreal
1343, Sunday,
13 1. 20
1925, Sunday,
21 6. 20
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