Monday, March 03, 2008

Lager and Bowery

Some mornings I awaken back to front, knees kippered to my breastplate, feet curled into perfect couplets. Kippered copulated and crannied into me I me. (She didn’t care all that much for hockey, or other sports like running or vaulting).

I am running-over with arthritis today, overrun with today’s arthritis today. I believe in nothing, well a few paltry things like the likelihood of the sun rising again tomorrow and the moon cresting across the harrow of the night-sky, other than that, these paltry things, I believe in very little, nothing worth believing or trusting in. Am I an unbelieving heathen with a fondness for lager and bowery? Time will tell, nothing more or less.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
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