Thank you for ruining the difference between secrets and lies
Though I guess we don't have to have tradition if we can somehow free ourselves from our memories,
I want something that I do not yet know
And the minute I like it, I will discard it
(Note the trade in tradition, note the crossing over as a form of forgiveness, in advance, for any dislocated art reshaped by prayer or by indifference, neither ugly enough nor beautiful enough to be a topic, yet still a tradition)
Through which we've become tourists
estranged from ourselves with no glory, but no remorse, It is for the sake of the imagination's
mercilessly misguided mercy
That I cant tell anybody; How to look or how to listen (new)
I certainly can't tell them what to remember (all the things you are)
Particularly when I want to forget everything myself
So that no two coca cola bottles are ever the same
So that I do not sip from them with casual relief
So that recognition is extinct; I do not recognize you
So that I do not behave for a groove where there is a ridge
Remembering becomes unoriginal, an unrooting, not up
Not something to be held, like a manufacturer's inventory or my reborn–desire to be held
So I forget about you every moment and every moment I know you, better, as with love
as with battle, as the bottle, followed into a fountain,
or an orphan's mispronounced crown/names
You punch me in the face and blue flowers bloom
That's what happens, like the martyr in any brand of christ, in order to disappear it has to happen, so it is not bad
Thank you for discovering the difference between existing and happening
