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Sunday, January 24, 2010

The selfishness of having an inside.

mine is the beauty of the Tawney Frogmouth, unexpected funk. "It's just there, can't you see it? It's just there."
mine is the arrogance of sandstone. "Hardly stone" says granite firmly. "Exactly!" I say, "Very hard stone. We stone have to stick together, lest the sand..."
mine is the hubris of the very worst thing, an arbitrary young god. "Eenie, meenie, miney, moe"

I'm so sorry to everyone for my perfections, the bits of me that will not waiver.
I promise to share them.
I apologise in advance for not being you.

2 comments:

laamsha said...

yours is also the beauty of the market...that denies it's lesser wishes to be understood..
you ain't going to be decoded..
not that easily.
even when;
no longer the black and tan
the rough and smooth
the ticklish and misunderstood
even when;
sweet and ancient
all you've got is a handfull of wrinkles and unpaid bills
even when;
you hit these moments
in which you and granite cannot sidle
even then,
it's exactly you
with your helix of misaligned textures and
extravagant wonder
and awe and intuition
and self doubt
that need not be understood
to be perfect
and unapologetic.

laamsha said...

wowsers. just reading some of your poems again.
...wishin' i was smarter....