I ran straight out of myself. I’m certain that’s what death will be.
I ran straight into myself. Birth. How it was. Once while on acid I saw my birth doctor.
He had eyebrows like antennae.
I ran straight around myself. Like blowing leaves all my selves whirling around the street lamp of my body.
I ran through myself more than once, often jacked up on alcohol and guilt. My clumsy feet broke the delicate toys inside me.
Down the road, down the road, all my friends live down the road.
Ain’t got a letter since I don’t know when.
Older now I run to catch up with myself. Mind goes very fast these days.
In this life inside the falling a long sweet glide.
There was a time when every hour was whole.
Part of Beethoven’s wisdom is how he incorporated this knowledge into his late quartets.
For my part I have a childish psyche with a porous understanding of time.
The child inside me is wishful because of a leaking hourglass.
I’ve lived my life for my twin brother who died at birth.
The doctor had terrifying eyebrows.
I wasn’t a poet by choice but by the bardo.
I am however a citizen by choice.
Are you disabled? No I’m a citizen.
The smell of smoke from my neighbor’s houses….