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Limbo
I could have conjured myself
as a professor
evoking silly games
of conversation
the marijuana smokers would love me
and call me daddy
I would be
The Potfather Professor of Monotony
at Lazyboy University
at the corner of Jesus Street
and Blunt Guts Avenue.
Their would be lots of papers
with doodles on them
and they would write me
a thank you letter entitled
The Human Animal
Treatise On The Wetness Of Paint
we would follow the herbs
to a veiled cough
in a meager parapet,
to some new dialect of Viking.
We’d pillage, and teach the suffering a lesson
on how to heal themselves
with our voodoo dolls
and stuffed Buddhas
we’d torch the green earth
and eat ranch Doritos
slip under the fence poles
holding our ski bindings.
I’d throw a book at Boo Radley
and he’d flail around
like someone’s wounded mockingbird
his face turning paranoid
he’ll think,
we think
he’s gay, then he wlll walk
uncomfortable, stiff and silent
feeling his way down a dark hall
of dementia,
in that terrible dream world
of a paralyzed scuffle,
the one where you can’t fight back
against the force of evil.
I’ll teach them about God
how he smells
like opium
how he yawns
and makes a bubble
to sleep on.
__________________
Being deep and appearing deep.--- Whoever knows he is deep, strives for clarity; whoever would like to appear deep to the crowd, strives for obscurity. For the crowd considers anything deep if only it cannot see to the bottom: the crowd is so timid and afraid of going into the water. -Nietzsche
Last edited by Harry Haller : 11-30-2005 at 07:55 PM.
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