People think artists are painting, dancing, writing, or… when really they’re all whistling past the graveyard
A poem is like a dream In that it shows us the truth Without telling it Because, truth be told There’s no telling
You can either learn to ride a bik… with no hands in order to show off or to free your hands for another task
The fog is so thick now We’re buried up to our necks in it Our bodies out of sight And out of mind Making the ground beneath our feet
The lamppost is an outpost Where it’s safe to admit That between you, me, and the lamp… Self-knowledge is over-rated Self-deception is automated
It’s when all the signs say Everything must go
It was only when I shared my out of body experience that I came to understand it was nothing out of character
Is being a conformist without a cause enough to qualify me as an antihero
Peanut butter’s not very good by itself but chocolate is Because I’m not very religious it’s important for me
In the digital age we let our fingers do the talking
A fishbowl made of screen glass is a fishbowl made for one that is magically adjacent to every other fishbowl in this world we conjured where
Like the fern which is seedless but doesn’t lack seeds the universe (that cannot be named… is meaningless
I can’t just let go of my past I have to lose a tug of war and get third degree rope burns
Think about how much control they… with a made up version of eternal damnation Then consider how much freedom you’ll be left with
Most lives are lived in service to one institution or another but only very recently has this begun to feel
