(a lot of references in this, I don’t know if anyone will get them. I’m still learning to write; I usually speak.)
Speaking words
Hangin’
Exiting myself with fanciful poetry
Explanations of experience
I settle myself, spotting a book
My many lives Told by another
Now I sit Reading Pessoa
Riding along side him, in 1928, on the road to Sintra.
Time has no time when print is bold
After all is gone
Still the soul
Magnificat
Shit! I’m lucid
I see life as well; From behind my eyes
I want to shake Pessoa’s shoulders
(Or campos, or reis, or caeiro, or whatever…)
I want to step through time, and Capture his cognizant attention
“I’m here too!”
I saw the tobacconists assistant
(Well, I remember his clothes, but…)
“I’m here!”
“I am with you”
“I can see…”
But so what? So we see
Who doesn’t?
I’m just mad, I want to write good poems, but I don’t know how…
MindWorld 