, , , , , , ,




            there is no Sunday-night-bath-
                           nails-cut hope
            I am tired of reading
                           thinking I will find the answer
            I will not write ‘Howl’
                           I will not write ‘the old pond’
            I have long abandoned the sublime guitar break
                           and the Bruce Lee body

                           there will be no vindication
                                     I will not write my own biography
                           I will not be recognised
                                     I will not be consulted
                           I will not even be heard
                                     I hereby renounce it all

            instead of trying to build to the glory of my greater self
                           I should dwell always and with
                                     my natural self, the only self I’ve never got
                                              and always will





identity wormhole: radiator
renunciation wormhole: poessay I
teaching wormhole: teaching
writing wormhole: thirst? / hunger?