Poem: Theatricality


So wretched, slow and slurred are my sentences that they betray a disadvantage of mine,

Mark me, nonetheless that this hindrance is only as regards rhythm, or musicality perhaps, and it does not indicate a lack of insight,

Rather it indicates that my ideas come clothed in understanding you know not, and this disparity shows itself as an edge to my existence,

So trifle not, and step lightly on your approach, keeping any dagger hidden, for if I see the sun in your steel you will disintegrate,

Torn apart and scattered in light breezes, you will appear as leaves to the daily zephyr,

Whisking away cares of daylight, concerns of waking theories, until we see that we need not mark such as our lucklessness,

For misfortune is not mine, but a wealth of pallid and imperceptible subordination, so that I am given lengthy chains of dwarfish and intricate spiderweb woven hurdles,

And as I flow over and through as though they be dreams, or the babbling of a million madmen, or the farts of shiftless nomads.


But nay, I desire not to allay the life breath at mine own feet, though I have thought on it,

that I should wish to feel the leaving as it flows with color,

a monochrome puddle expands before me, or would were I to wish it and act upon disfavor,

for I feel this amber flood most intimate, making of itself an installation or commentary, not satirical, but plainly straight and true,

and reflective as I gaze on my own visage in its mirroring with expanding circles, the consequence of drops from mine own opened wrists of pure plasmatic hue,

it is an image I’ve seen in the night, lit from above, my floating camera glides in circles round and round my slipping minutes,

plaintiff basstones and plucking of low notes, the soundtrack of my death be wordless,

but this is an image and nothing at all more than that,

not my intent now nor ever would it be for I do not seek to vanish but consider the art,

I think it not sin to catch the early train, if thou wish to be gone, but were I to check out it would be public and long remembered.

Poem: Theatricality

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