When I was growing up I was sure of two things. 1. I was retarded and
2. that I was adopted. - eventually I learned that 1. no and 2. no.
however, there is lingering doubt remaining about both only
because my nature is different and odd and my nurture is fantastically
imprinted.
I was also told that I couldn't carry a tune and was in speech
therapy because I was monotone and thought to be tone deaf - both of
these ended life being not true as I have become an accomplished
musician and a pretty good singer.
If I was so motivated - this would be the start of my autobiography - or my memoirs as they call them.
what follows is probably terrible or terrific...
the great idiot of us all
the rain sleeps;
passed the nickel
through gates of wrath
after
observedly pounded on
windows and
doors and windows
doors and windows.
slept under lit porticoes
and flooded swails.
- last night I wrote this but may take it back
chicago poetry. poetry for a people. poetry for a moment. poetry to satiate the need. poetry of an american outlaw. poetry for the best words in their best order. poetry by Jhon Baker
Saturday, December 31, 2011
the great idiot of us all
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This reminds me of the line, "I slept under the porch because I love you." (But I can't remember where it's from.)
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