Footnotes on the Dance Floor (Whose Watching Who?)

D.T.s w/ DFW

I’m hanging around

I’m slipping down

                              & it’s glorious

Reading till my eyes are sore

Bleeding lids close like trap doors

Observation doesn’t necessarily create sensation

Might not bring about creation

They may rhyme but really are of no relation

When the tree falls in the wood it does make a sound

Even when there’s (so called) no one around

Because the great oak lands confidently


                                                   aware of the purest there

And the only opinion it needs to care about

                                       is the one about its self

                                       it will take from birth to death

I don’t think I’m indestructible

                          But by God

                         my god does

And the problem w/ him is

He acts like a         would be dictator

                         w/ delusions of grandeur

my psych(e) says it        ain’t psychological


                     that its glandular

he’s the great pan, neither Goat Child nor Pig Man

              he’s randier than a pit dweller let loose

and more frustrated than a window cleaner upon a step ladder


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