Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Don't Philosophize

T., sit down and have a smoke
on the porch
and don't think.
Watch Friday turn into nothing
but Saturday.

Relax, don't phiosophize.
Don't philosophize!
Forget the immovable object.
Damn the Great Stream, man!
Nothing fucks a fallen tree!

T., that which does not kill you
will.
So stop worrying about
chlorine radicals,
mercury poisoning,
inferior knishes, bagels, pizza--
Whether nothing can exist in a vaccuum...

Instead T., fill your Zippo;
piss in the bushes.
Because, you're the Jack of Diamonds.
You're an inverted ninth
ringing in an alley even
the rats have abandoned.

Talk is a thing.
Not to talk, the proverbial tree.
So, relax, don't stare,
because nothing is worth the nothing
you can't have.

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This was written in the spring of 1991 for the last poetry workshop I took while at UF. It was the only thing I turned in that semester Debra Gregor liked. I wrote it to tick her off. Shows you how in tune I was with that class.

This came from an assignment with some pretty harsh restrictions, it was the only time that that type of guideline ever produced something anyone was proud to be a part of.

I still feel like that guy sometimes, except now I know most of the environmental concerns are crap.

Ta,