Are your feet are having difficulty finding the ground?
Or perhaps not.
I do not feel self-righteous, do you?
And, if it is not impolite, how do you do it?
I saw a ladder, hung with
to and fro
To say my heart is broken is, to be honest, yet another example of my melodramatic tendencies.
And it was at this moment, when the clouds obscured the sun, that we knew that we discovered, the secret of the tower. It, appearing so unbalanced, held only by a few fragments, yet…
And it was at this moment, when my heart became guilty of this or that thing, that it cracked in another place
And it was at the moment, when the clouds obscured my heart, when the tower became my spine, my leaning the wind
And it was
And it, and it
Remember, the hypothesis is no better than the information that goes into generating it, and is, like the latter, a thing that goes to and fro.
We are all unsettled here, we are all walking down roads, dusty or muddy, we are following the footprints of the Stephen’s island wren and just ahead, the bonobo. We are not self-righteous, for all right thinking, all self, has been vanished. We are heartbroken, and perhaps melodramatic. We are dying, for that is what happens when one becomes alive.
We live in different places, some free of ghosts and in air thick with the detritus.
We love time, for she will finally take us, and this is what we are walking for—to be caught up in what is time, in her amours. All arms and legs and blessed daggers.