45*21

why do we grasp at living
and think all the time of death
when is the fire inside enough
these painted flags of reality
notions of what is the cost
kidnapped several times in what was
when it is gone a deflated sense of self
or the opposite : narcissism
a grouse is something of a chicken?
today I thought of these things while tending the burn pile
sometimes I feel I've been exiled
exiled from a sense of self
cast off into an ocean of doubts
some might say there is only one great doubt
the sky fills with smoke
I watched that second plane hit the tower in hell
that is what he called it offering me a beer
it was 9:30 am
I declined
I felt like puking
was I hung over