Friday, April 24, 2015

aesop's fables.

IIII.

dear goody-goody of technical ability
(the stuff that frustrates me),

my resentments are real
but they do not yet run so deep-

they are soundless and still.
still
as a stillborn baby.

still as a stillborn baby
that you will never see

because
you close your eyes, both
of them, and do everything in your power

to imagine some happy happy
joy joy shit

and for forever, afterward,
weep weep.

boo fucking boo hoo.

don't get yourself all sad. work yourself
up

some other way.

i know you can. don't make ambitious
promises. just take

my hand
and a running leap.
hopskip jump.

you are as long as a building, as long
as the river you were riding along

accustomed
until you were taken from its waves

and raised by people.