June 20, 2004

  • i.


    I lost track of my shadow a long time ago
    but found it today   it knew just what to say:


    but waited till dusk


    and then blurted: “Where the hell have you been?”


     


    ii.


    I once had twelve fingers, now only ten
    Two vanished in a battle, don’t remember


    where or when


    only that the enemy smote the freak


    out of me and now I want him dead.


     


    iii.


    Having forgotten altogether more


    than I currently know


    I hang onto remembered dreams as if the wisdom


    of all ages  swings precipitously out over a cliff


    toward abeyance and I must grip the wit


    or be dimmed.


     


    iv.


    People are a lot like the underwear


    they wear    too fat or thin or tight or


    stained with the blessings of sex


    or less than popular transgessions of life


    someone could probably (and may well) make use


    of your dress or pants or shoes


    but what market is there for your underwear


    once your dead?

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