A Dozen Plateaus Poem by Rhys Owens

i want to shave my head and become a monk
i want to shave my mind and become defunct.
there's a thousand already
like the wind when it blows
like the wind when it doesn't
plagiarizing the waves i hear through the filling
in the false teeth;
ironic.
ironic.
just let it die.
let it die.
anyone can do it...
there's a thousand already
in the past that you can recite for the first time.

let it go on down to where them dead
men lost they bones.
and put em back together.
anyone can do it.
if you haven't been to jail
if you haven't been in hell.
anyone can play guitar...
when they put me in the hospital
and it's all i could do to become a body without organs.
and i didn't want to.
and they let me out
and they let me out.

and they let me out.
and they let me out.
and they let me out.

i never thought death had outdone so many.
so many.
With multitudes bent toward some flashing sceneNever disclosed, but hastened to again, Foretold to other eyes on the same screen.
Hooray! for the age of information. What
are bodies with-
out the cut
and paste.
we're lonely because we can never be alone.

Together.
Is not responding because of a lengthy script.
go on down.
go on down forever. it'll be 'good'

enough.