Finding
himself here, which is to say,
accepting that
for heaven knew what reason
he apparently
was nowhere else, and had
to navigate
the pains and vagaries of working
out how to sustain
his flesh and mind within
the blind constraints
of their inadequate
perceptions to
abet their adaptation to what
he was given
to believe was shared reality,
including gravity
and hunger and his mother
and the
monthly obligation of the rent,
he really
could imagine no comportment
better, past desultorily
tending to banality,
than to
repose deep in his pillowed chair
and sit and
wait. Feathers would support him
as he met
whatever would comprise the size,
conditions, and remainder of his fate..
No comments:
Post a Comment