a poem for today, 4 April 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of ten sentences and its image]
Automatisms of attitude have a durability, a slow temporality, which does not match the sometimes rapid change of conceptual mutation.
I wait for you to command me to stay.
In the cold grave under the deep deep sea.
Let's just make sure we're dotting all the t's.
I began to forget that I was a man.
Do nothing else when you take those few breaths.
Each seems related to body, identity and political struggle.
One morning, I shot an elephant in my pajamas.
Can anybody tell me what's wrong with this picture.
To think, it is often better not to understand.
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