If I Can't Be Profound, I'll at Least Be Prolific
Nothing to add. Just finding my voice. Gaining traction. Acceleration. Pace. Momentum.
Learning to lean. Lusting to loose. Layering to layer. Line by line. Lie by lie, but I prefer
Truth for a truth. And doing un-wistfully is honestly freeing and fancifully fragrant in fun.
To be and not be in perfect harmony... And may be this is the key: to not say yes or no. I wish to be on the edge, cusp, and verge
of maybe at all time. Not a maybe out of stagnancy, stuckness, and tail-between-the-leggedness.
A maybe I can one up myself with this next moment.
Perhaps I can be a better being? Perhaps this present present is being presented to destroy, distort, and di·lap·i·date language to a point of silence. But beyond silence, to a cosmic roar
Heard only on the satellites with their ears to the corners of this oblong galaxy.
Even farther, broadcast on all gosh dang wavelengths is some man
in a white robe wearing a white ZZ-Top beard
playing the harping harp·si·chord
out of key. Maybe, I guess I just forgot to Listen to that 7-11 heaven.