surplus self, reign it in

I feel as if I have lived a hundred lives

  • Carrying around an ant-filled crawfish, feathers, pennies.
  • Little boys trying to take my dimes.
  • Biting the hairy end off a green onion and leaving it in a store until the shopkeeper ask me for $1.60. (But I hadn’t thought anybody had them!)
  • My right palm full of cotton. A tiny tired looking child nun, feigning adulthood, staring wistfully at a small rotating cappuccino cup in a glass display. As wide as she is tall.

 

How do I parse all these experiences together?

There are so many facades, modes, refractive and reflective surfaces.

Environment, room, cubicle, mirror, step, gate.

 

I’m shooting for the stars but who knows if I’ll hit the right galaxy.

Intensity waves wash during upheaval. Does this? Make? You understand?

this is not. (knot)

 

this time the words do not flow do not act as respectable adults: the words are growing so fast growing so confused so beautiful. is it a twisted rose or is that an american classic?

am I American?

 

Environment, room, cubicle, mirror, step, gate.

We shall see. See you soon.

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