I am the sum of time forever.I am the sum of none of it.I am only a starving witness.I am alien to Earth. Was I born?This morning, in fact.Did I die?Always.Am I alive?As alive as you want to be.As dead as you please.All is story.Even feeding my self?Feeding the self is one of the richest …
Eating whale steak by the light of a whale oil lamp. Eating sirloin with an ox bone knife. Consuming something with the thing itself. Feeding the self with the self. Feeding on the story that is itself story. Bullshitting yourself with the very thing that lies. Feeding the mind with gesticulations of the mind. The …
“What if I’m just a character in a play called your life?” he asks a friend. And he wakes with a playground in front of him. A park with hawks, bunnies, squirrels. Doing coffee drug then out to play. How could any attempt at rearranging the scene possibly make a difference? A stronger breeze than …
People as frauds. The Catcher in the Rye phonies prance the surface. And I put on a costume or two. The Stranger. Caufield. K. Z. The artist. Baby Tuckoo. Trying to get at something but failing every day. Ah to quest and find yourself looking right back down at your own shoes. Home again. Denizen …
Would you trade nothing for everything? What is really yours? Say truth now. Past and future? Those were never yours. A chattering mind? That’s a maybe. A fear of being the wrong idea to others. Of not being anything, ever, forever. Of futility. That’s a known thing. Would you trade your chattering mind for acceptance …
