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'The Knight Errand' by John Everett Millais, 1870 |
what the devil in me may care
this poem is strictly written
in terms of where am I
(secretion cell
hive mind)
may I aspire,
higher bones,
flesh and intentions...
to be or not to be
a unique or
patterned individual...
anything but myself sometimes...
--------------------------------------
I really love playing my childhood over and over
in traveling parlor tricks
role gaming around
all the names I have for
fermented grapes and grains...
I distill my insides
pretending there must be
a reason order is in disorder...
I build fantasies
into dogma cities
on rivers, I then hen weight
guilt, reflexing my way
through intellectual idolatry...
the continents and countries
on my walls all have
legion-ed allegiants being parts
and whole(s)
of successive
time(s) recorded
in waves, I draw
maps to understand
where I might be...
I say I want to stop, no start,
no stop start again stop plead insanity
I mean not to be so destructive
propping up my id and ego
like weeds popping up on the roadside
lock-stepping silhouettes
of birth and reach in dead starlight...
my pockets are full of mouths
my windows are rolled down
my holes are wholly interested
in what I used to be
not where I am going to be
my need is
my holy interest
in what I see...
you
willing
to bleed
sweetly
for me...
EJR ©
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