Sit down, and shut up

in poetry •  3 months ago

yicca.jpg

We have a story.
I can't tell you what it is.

we're not ready for any story yet.
we have first to take accounts-- no, not accounts.
Not confessions either.
stock, in a general sense.
internal stock, a kind of psychiatric mediation.
Not therapy.
just a medieval arm wrestling match over a stretch of land, in the question:

who are you?
how did you come to be here?
is it really you sitting there?
and what do you expect me to do about it?

we're beset with any number of internalizing self-destructive ghosts
but this is an advantage
it wouldn't do to be too sure about things
including our own name

this then can be the beginning for a story:
we're not sure
"this may be the beginning", IS the beginning

we have a lot to do
and no idea how to do it
we have a lot to forget
and are incapable of it

we need munitions,
and they are not to be found

this heresy which I inscribe
so lovingly over your ancestors' feet
should in time form a sort of blessing
the oneiroscope regard
for your dreamland awakenings

in some other country than here

but until then
guard yourselves
the ravens and the moons
are palpable
not honorable
and see your vice and will

we can say
no matter what others do
that our hair is on fire
and you burn well

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