Peter Schwartz X I wrestle my- self like an old museum fearing after so many exhibits it might just be pretend, even though this is the softest part of my loneliness, because truth is after all this, I'm still contagious a spacious disease on fly- paper. - I'm my own interruption stranger than the moon careful as a parrot absurd as an alias over the telephone; growing desperate if this can be called growth. - I drink off pyramids repeat mortuary rhymes and study greek when the library's closed; many nights I barely shepherd a little pain that isn't so little. - and the big big world knows revival's just another kind of monster; another sticky reason for my tired line of haunted scape- goats to flirt with the keyhole of my raw redemption like a movie where three sisters rub their laundry on prodigal rock trying desperately to clean both what is and isn't. |