Like when we walked home from the bar
And the sinking-sky obscured
Our distances–
Its like that.
Fogginess of the sky and skull
Even certainty can be complicated
With what lays before us.
am dead
call to
the living
little
brothers
how absurd
your walk
is
unencumbered
& adrift
you run across
life’s
stage
your words
are manacles
& cage
your mind
I know
enough of you
to sense
your pain
freely
& fiercely
I move
into a deeper
space
where none
will reach me
here
I strike
a blow
an imbeciling
fluid
from inside
my body
covers
the ground
between
& blocks
all entry
birds
like little
knives
dive
down the sky
le mal
du ciel
the phrase
I hear
& fly from
- A. Artaud
