for a time alone, it sure was together!
things being as they are, it is only natural we should cascade ourselves in this wonderful box.
now, if you would really like to hear a story, i could give it to you straight.
when i was born there was a great commotion:
for it was neither here nor there,
and none could bring h/e/m/self to care.
the difficulty with absolute truth is the bitter taste we all love:
the same reason you gulp down that horseradish at our dinner parties
(that, by the way, is disgusting)
nevertheless, they took me to the doctor, and all was wondered why.
could not a trebled man make up his mind? (!)
the truth was all about groundhogs.
everyone thought they came out in the spring to peddle their wares.
but in truth, they were only descending further underground:
for what we perceive as up is detected by the young hog as
decidedly downward!
and so i was born on february first (so help me!)
deemed entirely incapable of technojocularity
and cast streetward;
;
at this point i began casting my life story in pillars of gold,
having only just quit tripping over it,
and vapors being as they are, i was completely unable [to clean house,
full, house, , ,
‘doghouse’
the dog’s house
bracket
to separate what was real from the imaginary, the tragic, the sage and wise
and filled with (- who knows what);
and this particular yarn of mine was ‘filled ‘with particular yarns of particular yarns of sense and sensibility
[ and no sign of julia ]
so it was constructed the inconstructible/inscrutable,
and was it ever uprooted?
surely i once believed in certainty (and surely i had seen a graph)
but my epitaph
!
well that might lead you to believe that i was led to believe in (+ who knows what),
which was really a clever joke:
plenty a good way to lighten the world wide web at a funeral
(for you know candles are scarce)
nonetheless.
the doctor thought i was some sort of monster, crouching there in the hallway
(and i was feeding on little tendrils of his skin, though he didn’t know it)
and wherever i walked the bricks were more like sponge
and when i whistled in just the right frequency, they would
s<p>ike!
and if that isn’t transitive, i don’t know what is.
they told me humans didn’t handle probability well
(but i knew that, for i was indeed one of them,
and didn’t quite believe this could be possible!)
and i would have to conceal these V-E+F
but heck! it only grew worse with age,
ramping up the parameters, until:
well, until:
finally, the antiprotons arrived from space!
truly these little talking heads were my real parents.
haha just kidding.
until:
the absorbent little pressures of living, the thoughts
- and dearie me, you’d better censor that, it’s inappropriate -
finally baked a cake right on top of me,
and that was nearly the end of it all.
but maybe there is hope in the scope of that rope,
that peculiar touch of class in the minor key,
that could send it far beyond its expectations,
the shining star of the ensemble,
and that will be not beginning or end but always, always,
the dark probability-
and you and i, well;
this is how we came to be.
we will manage.
