The Big Dizzy

There’s a stretch of craggy coastline between who I am and who I want to be.
Icons on the cloudscape — Signals from the present

[I ask for a moment to think
and The Great Poet, that madman’s god, patron saint of the big dizzy;
laughs in my face.
laughs at my arrogance
laughs at my impatience
laughs at my equations while I labor through calculations

of the terminal velocity of us


of the serotonin levels required to maintain an approximation of forward momentum]

(Am I mixing metaphors in this thought-signal?  Can you hear me, dear abstract reader, when I call out?)
This business of being born is more difficult than I remember it being – last time it was easier – last time I was more naïve—last time I still had the right feign ignorance—
but now
I am laughing
at the unbelievable beauty
of the sound of my own breath


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