to
to jenny of course i owe my rigidity moreso though acceptance. to schuon and warhol the value of work, to cage that of play. to my mother and eyes a distaste of self thats godly. to all and books a taste for symmetry, parallelism, courtesy. i am eating with my brother in supra-surreality. to bricks and drugs and television i owe my curiosity. i live again to be the contrarian i despise, the nontraditional traditionalist, the blasphemous holy man. i sense again a self-ful self-lessness. battery of words, dense sense of appreciation. and all of course i owe to homesteaders, sentimentalists, fire and family. my focus is not mine, to a divine we owe rhyme. to cheese i prostrate. to tweets i owe self-anaylsis, metafiction, metaprose and metabeing. to oaks ill throw forty nickels, shoes and not shoes, cuts or jasper johns. i find myself invested with the perseverance of atman, disposability of the youtube comment, useful uselessness of the laymans nonsense juxtaposition. i find no paragraphs and punctuations on radios, we are a resourceful bunch with an overhead projector. again to here and this i owe the grace of subjectivity, freedom of failure in all possibility. to you i owe my hair and argument, nonsequitor and flashlight, to those who dont see the box for the eclipse. i eat this selfish nonsense, mourning and selfloathing. to the buddha i owe my suffering, the storm and cold my center and alignment. fate to calendars and crafts to waitresses. silly like my father i will become finally and surely noone and nothing. and this with a bliss at last i owe to god.