Uncertainty & Independence
                         Uncertainty & Independence

Did the black bird leave its mate behind,
or did she
(if it was a she)
die on the boat?
The anchorage between,
floating of plywood on
the sea of reality.
Safe, and at home,

the road passes by, the cars,
still in the flowing stream;
the view from inside the boat . . . 
Hands-on sitting,
with machinemirrors viewing
all the snowflakes and white men and women
in indented profile, — knowing at a distance
the spooky atlas [font=Arial]— out there[/font]
[font=Arial]causing harm.[/font]

[font=Arial]She died on the boat, all right.[/font]
[font=Arial]And I, hero of my songs,[/font]
[font=Arial]tarred-and-feathered, walk[/font]
[font=Arial]and leap in sticky flight . . . [/font]

[font=Arial]Some call it Generation, I'm[/font]
[font=Arial]saying Creative Certainty.[/font]
[font=Arial]There was a tree for me to light on,[/font]
[font=Arial]maybe not as tall as a mountain,[/font]
[font=Arial]but who needs that.[/font]
[font=Arial]I'm a hermit in open range,[/font]
[font=Arial]ready to be shot:[font=Arial]— [/font][/font]

[font=Arial][font=Arial]If they come for me, they'll come for[/font][/font]
[font=Arial][font=Arial]you, they say . . . [/font][/font]

[font=Arial][font=Arial]I come for myself.[/font][/font]

[font=Arial][font=Arial]Join me. In public. Everywhere     [/font][/font]

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!