Thursday, March 10, 2005


Sharp, sick man,
each day as little
as you can, much more
you must until
fate buries
its palsied self in each
and curb your line
of sight: it is,
though moving still,
a tomb.
:what you see
is not what is
but what you were
is how you saw.
sharp, to heal yourself
cut off
your cutting;
become uncarved,
not yet
what was.

Wow, I actually totally understood this. I like these logic-problem entanglements.

Thank you for reading. I'm happy you enjoyed it, too!

I really don't try to be so complicatedly awkward, but the words won't hold otherwise. So, I do the best I can.
It may be complicated, but it certainly isn't awkward... I think it's fun.
Well, that's what I wanted, then. Great!
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