this rant started as a comment
and became something more
more than thirty days of silence, anyway
so it found its way here instead
were it not for this schedule
concepts of time might be
entirely lost to me
for you see, even now
I've no idea what day it might be
well, is
it might be any of the seven
I suppose it some sort of training
for the inevitable
or just the gradual onset of
either way, I don't mind
forgetting yesterday
Were I to imagine my soul
to have hands of some sort,
and assuming those hands had fingers,
surely they would know
the texture of warm cynicism,
soft, then fluid
falling to my feet
I imagine it hard
and requiring something like heat,
an agent of cause,
to be melted and done away with
many a times, I've forgotten where I was
and have opened my eyes
to see where I am
you can never be lost, you know
though the world may lose you
for all that is, is you
and where it is, is you
what's sad is you can't help it
not run or tiptoe
past the peas and carrots
not hide behind the gravy
I'm sorry, but I've forgotten where I was
That said, whatever it may have been,
congratulations on your publication (:
I can think of no one more deserving, nor whose words
hold more relevance than yours
and I wish I could think of a more suitable word
than relevance
like frost
or spit
or candlelight and little soldiers on a screen,
marching side by side
like Mickey Mouse in black and white
oh dear,
I'm sure my measly twenty followers
(I can't help but use her full name;
something like how you can't help but say
Morgan Freeman, and not just Morgan)
But for those of you who haven't, or who,
by some spin of Fortune's hypothetical wheel,
have found yourself here,
well, do yourself a favour..
where was I?
