yesterday i chose love
but then it swung.
emerging
from
the throat
of grided
anthropos,
i found
a view
distant.
it skipped
over waters which
merely glinted
at first,
but then i
looked
out of
the corner
of my eye and
the water
swam
in the harbor.
it carved
out
a kind of
geometry; i felt
short little
liquid daggers
stop these
hard eyes:
sea birds
glide and
dip along
air currents, making
roundabout
hemispherics
and landing in the water
with this
grace that
was like
accurate
solemn
play; then they
would dive deep
to fish (?) i counted
46 seconds for one;
62 for another. i wondered
if they got anything,
or if they were just
trying to see how
far down
they could go..
the breeze
was cooled.
it felt so
right. and i
could feel - i mean -
actually fucking feel. and
the nuerons on
my mouth
spoke to
my head.
but then my
parabola
dropped and
retraced its
steps back
to the grids
of them,
the cut slab
of have.
ppl not
walking but
more like
falling on their
legs. feet rooting or
cutting deep into brick,
staring at thine
rectangle pocket entity,
vectoring
destinations
efficient, dressed
in their conquerer’s best,
layered up,
shiny and
brand new. it was
as if
their father’s
father’s
sword had
undergone mitotic
division and
whetted the face to
the
nines.
i could
smell
their fate.
it was
then that
i heard the
saprophytes
that will
eat me
call my
other name; the one
that i have long
shut-up in a box whose
label is unintelligible
i then
ate pizza
with
cheese and
pepperoni,
making
my
bed
for them