I return thoughts to
The ship of theseus
Shinto temples rebuilt like a cyclical adolescence
It’s like the night we watched “the young maths”
In the classroom where I learned I was nearsighted, the same wood walls absorbing
‘what through the green tube shoots the flower’,
that light slowly radiated back to me on cool august air,
just for me through the voice of the guitar,
no one else could know I’d been there before
It seems ridiculous to keep folding back into the ship of theseus while suffering from a head cold
In the continual loss of this moment,
thought stolen by vandals that will pawn precious things for serenity,
for the taste of forever
I feel hungry or sad
When you’re standing next to someone else who is chewing fruit flavor gum and you can smell it,
that’s what I mean when I talk about wanting
I swallow my life one desire at a time
Most times I act like I don’t really want to hold on to anything
But all I do is hold on
I thought of writing an essay on the impossibility of freedom
But all I have is the title
Beneath
Luminescent towers half built
elegiac candelabra
How much remains of the ship of theseus?
Where are you hellmouth beatific whisperer?
Orion of my sorrows,
listening to music from my eyes drowned world..
What has become my life, lost ship of theseus?
Even my memories are replaced by ribs of dreaming,
working poesy on this ship of theseus
Years derelict wandering as a book read its meaning forgotten,
lilac groaning against night air,
darkness echoes star light,