Often trees are conductors of the absolute, the sidereal cuss
eternity. the blow escapes the rehab and into the fire as known
but
lost coupons short of your toaster of existence. the mind needs consciousness,
consciousness does not need mind. Bon Voyage.. when the body revolts within itself, and parts battle
parts,
it's the last revolution, the last pogo, follow the few that
have wisdom, don't let it deceive with knowledge, the brass ring of annihilation, you'll be recognized by a chip, and maybe it will be all that's left..

Monday, November 3, 2014

Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)

The Hanging Man

The Hanging Man

By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.
I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.The nights snapped out of sight like a lizard's eyelid :
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.A vulturous boredom pinned me in this tree.
If he were I, he would do what I did.
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