Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Brain Fog

It used to be numbers;
God abstraction particles up and down worm-tunnel cracks
cracks and closes and fog descends
numbers, sightless, crash, crumple, are useless

What are you trying to say? to say? to WHAT? is WHAT are you talking about you universe talker you false throat you wrongly-born too late, too late

too late to live where I would not have been allowed were I on time
to live leather-bound life-mind in circles, in halls

It used to be words reprinted behind my eyes
the memory of everything, all the time
wares on wears one



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