the lantern has
oil. the maelstrom becomes perception. the hailstorm becomes regional. I have
little time to win, to engage existence, to master ontology; as an existential creature,
low on gas, trying at unmemorized latency. if to unlock thoughts, sleeping in
the crib, those hours father was merciful. I spoke to superheroes—as fortunate
to endure, suffering has become metaphysical: smoky clouds, a box with a
padlock, if to understand what mystery becomes. I have little time to win, to
engage existence, to master ontology.
what remains
immutable—unchangeable—endurable?
life is a drongo,
humans are meerkats, the trickster keeps one chasing. scorpions tread with
pride, absent of guilt, the meerkat attacks, destroys. what conquers life,
subjugates the drongo, outlives behavior? too difficult to answer, too aloof a
question, too detached to sense chaos.
age is a
chaperone, walking one closer, dropping one into an abyss.
what outlives
behavior? is behavior immortal? will the world implode?
the lantern has
oil, the well is flourishing, the liquor stores are giving charity.
is the human the
divinity? is it a partnership? how does one get admission into his or her self?
