The words that leave my lips-a-rhythm,
Fall on the down-BEAT of my breath,
Sounding out the SY-LA-BLE-SSSNAKE.
Reminding me of the ghost I'd met,
Marching drawing, falling, slowly amongst the traditions of his time,
The papyrus parchment rolled up, scrolled up, burnt up.
The fire that burnt that paper gave the heat that fed that baker who helped supply a writer with a dozen + 1,
Who left his assets to a kid with glasses,
Whose ancestors would build a computer,
They say.
Can we agree on that?
Where is the goddam meaning, Holden might say.
In my party-watch:
IFNID
N R
I A
TIMET W
Y, I O
O C T
HM.KS
What the hell does that mean?
Screw you Faulker!
I don't need a fuckin' truck to carry wood to burn the fire to feed the power.
Let's agree that start means finish, K?
THE START.
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ReplyDeleteThose letters in the middle say: Time ticks toward infinity, ohm. The are supposed to be a concrete poem shaped like a clock.
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