No Wonder
we're miserable, seeing as we don't know what's happening.
Plants tick,
and the neutered soup of dust
dinders in between sweet jester.
Harrumph and again the earth offers up its rough parchment of hunger
and insisting on it ad infinitum.
(No, I don't know either.)
Silly blown earth with its trivial
import and the tracks we left in it. I love your tracks btw,
that are so brim-full of emptiness. Where did you go exactly?
I have taken to
following myself because I'm imitable. I don't know what more to say.
...
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'' the neutered soup of dust / dinders in between sweet jester '' :) '' Objects are imbued with the same pangs of existential angst as people; imaginary worlds are as irrational as the real one; 'know thyself' is an impossible directive. '' [in 'Poetry International Web']