Sunday, July 27, 2008


Tonight I told a friend I've never met that thinking the world is magical makes you a burned-out acid head, but in truth I believe that the world is magical, just in a way that I can never tell anyone else about.  When I stop and feel it is entirely apparent, 
but in that way where I know
I might have become too absurd for my own liking.
In that I don't exactly
like myself,
except I do, 
"I do I do I do I do I do;"
look how clever I've become 
to maintain my skillful claw-clings to practicality;
to have achieved this balance
everything is balance is everything
my life is a slow process of 
whose definition liquefies
when I caress it
just so. 

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