a poem for today, 4 July 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of ten sentences and its image]
The wilderness is not elsewhere, but is rather everywhere.
It doesn’t mean it’s not there, subtly sucking your energy.
The real is the concrete becoming of struggle and negation.
So from a promotional standpoint, you have nothing to lose.
This cannot be political.
Maybe it was forgettable.
I hate that I call it a war.
Every name in history is I.
I wanna dance over there.
The declaration of love marks the transition from chance to destiny and that's why it is so perilous and so burdened with a kind of horrifying stage fright.