I throw stones,
aspersions, mock, ridicule,
criticize,
excoriate, because I don’t live in
a glass house and I
embrace and cherish a
superior moral
sense which justifies my love
and my
condemnations. Dirty work but
enviable. Galore.
“If only…” etc. I have a
calling for it. Vocation.
Discernment.
Discrimination.
Talent.
I Can’t Handle the
Truth.
I don’t have a leg
to stand on.
Lactose intolerant
Gluten susceptible
Chronic fatigue
Attention Deficient
Hyper
Dyslectic
Manic Depressive
Cutter
Binger
Purger
Left-handed
Anxious
Restless Legs
Erectile
Dysfunction
Low Testosterone
Dormitive
Dysfunction.
Obsessive
Compulsive
Panic Disorder
Morphological
Dismay
Low Self Esteem
Authority
Resistance Compulsion
Homeland Security
Concerns
Agoraphobia
Sociopathic
Nervous a lot if
not all the time.
I could go on, but
I can’t handle
the truth no doubt.
WAITING FOR Gödel
There’s a theorem
outside and
beyond my box and
bubble “like”
an immaculate
conception: news
from beyond,
unspotted by my
bias and belief,
prejudice, and
conviction homeland
security
system.
Information is what
it is: higher
power kickstarting
a whole systemic
recalibration
impotent & powerless
to proceed without
this genius
generator
generating a generation.
“Like,” I said. Not
“is.” There’s a
difference. Any day
now.
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