plague of flies, copp, run like hell!
fear here replaced instinct
here's the problem. we are taught nothing.
how the shells thread the reeds how the reeds thread the shells
i remember a house built around a living tree. i remember a girl who offered me a sexual massage. i remember just wanting to go to sleep upstairs in the bark-walled library.
i always felt like my whole self was a mask. i dreamed my pants down, i remember the birth of shame.
i remember offering up my rock collection to a playground girl riot. i remember the one lost in the many. i remember the beginning of love in shame.
i remember the hippies on holiday in san francisco, tho by that time they were wearing nixon masks, but i remember the bells and the haloed hair and the incense of liberation and i grew some of that hair of my own back home in the thunky middle west.
i remember thinking girls had their own utopia and boys didn't know.
but some did & could only make gestures mostly futile without
the password.
i'm just saying, it may be the power of suggestion. just a suggestion.
in this place there were hippies too once and natives before that and what will they say was here now.
it's hard to resist the suggestion of power.
it's like a freak folk tale, the edge of a civilization crumbled.
love is being loved as you love and you know yourself to be.
on the playground we were all early anarchists.
most played well with others play anarchy.
some of us weren't wanted on the team.
we were the freaks of anarchy, the anarchic elect,
true cursed and blest.
owed to infinity.
purgatory of the missing. sharing the same space, but on different planes of reality. the erased, the disappeared, the extinct, all remembered as children remember, learning to look again, like children.
the rubble of the old city makes the rugged shore. we come for the water.
we build this city.
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