It’s not rhetorical. If I knew what I was doing
I wouldn’t be asking. It’s a good question
for folks who have more questions than confidence
be still or be strong
or
be still and be strong
you pick
I catch the light and I feel it
it stops there
sure I occasionally share it
but that’s often incidental
meet me three years ago
please
I’m glad you remember
it helps me remember
in the streets (walking)
it’s so different
it’s a world different
I’ve exiled myself
I don’t know from who or what or why
but sometimes it feels good
I wash my hands of it
it’s all dependent of the angle
and the angle is always changing
I think we could all (mostly) agree
it would help if I rhymed some
it’s not that I’m numb, I’m just not free
are any of us? - and from whom? -
[from ourselves, of course]
the lying tomb we cannot divorce
PAUSE I am a ghetto
ME: starring me - leaking. stinky. silly vapors
sleeping on my own crumbled newspaper manifesto-less manifestos
it happens every day
I forgot my lipstick!
I sometimes incorporate lipstick!
just because it’s a positive word to say
in those songs you wrote
it doesn’t matter what you think
just what you feel
stars. sequins. kangaroos. [lipstick.]
Those songs you wrote
I can feel myself inside of them. It feels like where I want to be. The spirits might contribute. But you always walk me back to my hotel. Why? I stare until I realize that I’m staring, and then - when the time comes - I can’t look at you. Even though it [I] still feel good. I cease to know the feeling unless I’m feeling the feeling, and then I remember the feeling as I’m feeling it, therefor: I’m doubly feeling the feeling. Again: it could be the spirits; but it’s definitely not just the spirits. It’s the spirits that connect us. Even when I’m not me. That transcendental feeling. Identification required.
