Tuesday, 16. July 2002
Ex: A Symphony in Three Movements
[1] Exs, I gather them like those old highways, on an atlas, that I had once possessed. Since I have one too many, do I have to invent a novel scheme to number them perhaps just like the interstaes? EX 1, EX 2 and so on. [2] Tonight my thoughts travel with the undulations of my heart. They refuse to see that all the roads have been boarded up, that the gates of the fort have been risen and it's useless to lay seige against walls that are impenetratable. So they dash into sheer stone. They are sucide bombers wedded to a doctrine of despair, asking questions: why can't you ex-tend me love? and ex-cuse my mistakes? Again and again. [3] Ex is a versatile prefix, predating and prevading all my nightmares. Ex as in Ex pulsion throw me out, on my ass. Ex as in Ex communication burn me at stake. Ex as in Ex cution you can't kill me for I am already dead. ------------------------------------------------- 2002:07:16 01:30 Atlanta
My Poems
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