May 5, 2016

In the simple common face of darkness

Where their individuality peppered the street

The worn-down store front plantains

And the bitter garlic plastic

I bought from the store


How could I not feel

 A stranger of compassion

without pity

For they are different you know


How could I not see

That the angled steel streets

Had a structure and contour whose

Dailiness I didn't know?


With that healthy sweat (it smelt good)

I perused this wonderland

The gentle breeze

Of a rough, yet musical poverty


I could sense that difference that unites Man (a joyful being)

And makes a farce of difference itself

And I could sense Rousseau's kindness

Which was like the fresh vitality

Of the apple I had eaten earlier


And all the while I didn't think of books

I strung those words together

About capitalism

That enemy-friend

Who my heart yearns to disappear


And all the while

I thought of God

Who doesn't exist

And I loved Him for that


I love Him more than any other thing

In this frail yet endless world

And this is why He doesn't exist

And I love that


In the dark smooth wrinkled faces

And the kind, random alien phrases

Sent like a poem toward me

(I remember I was in the staircase)

(I couldn't find the door)


It occurred to me

that I was alive

And I took a wager

Not a leap, but a skip

That Man was potentially


You know, I believe it

I really really like this phrase:

A Good thing