there are only so many truths. everything else is derived Aug 5, 2011
it could be your eyes.
there has been a problem in your brain.
you are not sure in what order things should be,
even when they are numbered and you are trying to count them.
it is a beautiful day outside, why are you sitting?
what are dreams? imagine the blue sky clouding over
and the summer thunder rolling, darkness and rain drops
(warm at first, the rain smell coming up from the earth)
as everything cools. words are dreams in fixed form.
a vision without eyes (engaged farther down the visual pathways)
somewhere near where all of the elephants live
and the umbrellas, dripping from the storm.
what color is your umbrella? does it change?
words are objects, and as such represent materialism.
a moderate wind is more true than words.
do not trust anyone who talks about money.
spend it. burn it. the river does not cling.
without eyes, the fish in the center of the cactus,
cut open to feed the wanderer caught between storms.
the little ones swimming in lazy circles, squinting
at the shining fissure in the sky.
where am i? the river does not mind where it is.
and when it has flowed away, it is nowhere,
until the rain comes again.
the river cannot be written down, but it can be dreamed.
the sun is very bright. it's getting dark.
i'm going to freeze. the cactus are staring.
the sand is hot. dirt. thirst.
it's hard to tell.
Linked from: poetry-is-not-a-riddle-with-a-single-answer