Today is the day I will be them and not they

It is the day I will see and not seem

It is the day when I shall be and been too

And that means I has to be and not been to the fair-

ther-most windsqualled coastline of earth where there is a muted sound like

Thunder on the horison and norse-voiced choir-ed like somnia

Sweeps through the trees like soap on ropes and

Squeams like the horror of you under seen by the right

Of all things to be able to make it to then and there

Where they are all about to see that this is about the rights of all

To be able to make it

And not just the wrongs and rights of time

And thorough-fared ways.




I have a condition they refer to as chronic schizophrenia – the doctors do at least – though I am unsure – I write to the voice in my head that alien-like – infects my wording and absolves me of blame for it.  Toodooloo!

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