Unbidden thoughts – random doodles – errant dreams –
are all of these identically induced from hidden
schemer-less regimes – at senseless play in everything
including anything that seems to us we meant?
Are we suspended over an abyss by them: are they
what hold us up? Are we lent our frail existence
by their accidents of absent-mindedness? Are we
the sweat of their duress? Are we what they erupt?
I dreamed of languorously floating things just now that
made me think this might be true. They didn’t look like you.
Silly thing to end this with, I know. But let’s come up
with words that rhyme with
oh! Low, blow, no, go…
.
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