What Else Can Be Said

with eyes averted in graceful melancholy what joy could be left not in belief in new territory aweless with stale miracle pond tossed stone rings ripple and die obstinate and prolonged no going back less new territory than new humility once determined that the future is invention we know not what the future will bring other than by the offices of retrocalculation subjective qualia gurgitated as analysis what do I need in my head right now to get the existence tax man off my back forced to speak in a bland manner to avoid the assassin just outside my door because I have a face similar to others which is apparently not impossible yet a cause for some embarrassment amongst the landfill intelligentsia still capable of roundups and gassings burning inquiries in a dark broaching sea so dark all which is known is of no use and one necessarily waits for nothing new another boring accumulation of mystery its inestimable charm pulls you off balance a necklace of kisses from the blasphemer offering your suffering ambivalence nothing less than the tools of discovery