Posted: Sunday, January 3, 2010 | |

what I pray about when I not-pray into sidewalk store-windows

to be, just for a moment:
speaking as an act of bursting with a MIND, MINDS in the state of
with another, a-hum with grey matter back and forths,
noticing not noticing the unnatural attention to fingers on tables or
eyes on the nothings
to write with a hand floating and carefree, or tortured enough to take those sharp turns
eyes mind or brain
and we will chime-chime chime chariot frenzy,
and we will un-close and
decide existence as a pre-frontal fix
(where are you?)

to DO, just for a moment,
acting out obscenely the grandiose
for one thinks of nothing but
to be able to articulate into the universe a string-seamed exempla
and shake of an un-kempt ego,
and to be as hypocritical as rand as to explode::scene
but there is something inherently elegant
to be human,
as human
and as such we sway and swing and land in the corridors and miss the ballrooms
(travel wanderer in a past life american and before that some semblance of normality in gestures)

I am shit at democratic poetry, hell, democratic writing or words or content
I have absolutely negative patience
with the ordinary
sure I must be coherent but outside-cohesive? rarely

because I don't want reassurance, you dig? I don't want fucking reassurance.

not about the way my words fall
or don't
or about the way I live
or don't
or rhetoric, playing with safe phrase word fucking ology
a call is a call is a
and I want to call with my words, that is it
nothing second hand, not seminal (what hipster shite) but PRIMARY
something that throbs, you know? throbs
words in tune, tuned to pulse widths
can't answer my own questions: do i mean radical radical?

I want collaboration

I want to be a witness to composition, COMPOSITION

of it

... and by fucking GOD firstly and lastly, I don't want to be suspicious of emotion


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