habit and rancor

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GJK, 16MAR2017

from WRIGHT THE BOOK

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‘habit and rancor’

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hello, predictable. hello, habit. hello shitty diner coffee

that i do so love with every fiber of my mortal being, every mote

of the ephemeral essence that is not me, yet, in truth, is entirely

me and you and every living thing that ever was and ever will be (which means nothing because time is a fiction) and because, as we have learned and understood for eternity — time is not real.

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conversely, timelessness is also not real. confusion enters

the mind and sugar is stirred into the ‘brackish black liquid’

and down my gullet it goes and once again i proclaim:

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Sentence structure be damned to the deepest bowels

of the most foul, vile and wicked lake of fire

that sentience itself has ever imagined within

the rancorous confines of earthly existence!

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YAWP! grammar, to hell with thee! freedom, expression, caffeine! exaltation and liberty!

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corpses, radiation, vessels

reviewing my work led me to this. i had forgotten that i wrote it.

poems by GJK

 

William Blake is dead

his papery skull lurks in a cobwebbed corner

the Beats and their Buddha

rest in pulpy boats atop stacks

of copies of poems, bodies in boats

that float beyond ideas

hundreds of other tree-skinned volumes

with notable names on their spines

line shelves from floor to floor above,

ceiling is floor of sky

the TV shows cartoons in motion

and speaks funnily about anything

tea cup is empty

　

　

GJK

28JUL10

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