old madness resurrected and uninvited
but clearly bethought and well remembered,
surfaced,
and it does not feel mad right now. it feels real and
it feels true and true is all i have. all my own.
because maybe i do not know what
true true is, and maybe my ruler is a figment only
whereby whatever i measure is too light
and too much like those colanders i like,
and my truth runs through the holes
where it is never gathered or pooled and it just
flows down my mind-stream and now
this feels very much like closing time
seasofme050715parallaxis
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parallaxis
Poetryparallax /ˈpærəˌlæks/ noun 1. an apparent change in the position of an object resulting from a change in position of the observer 2. an appar...
