Am I measured by what I buy?
Am I the sum of what I own?
A tree fills the ground with roots
under the shadow of its branches.
Does the tree own the ground?
A storm fills the sky with clouds
and rain and lightning and thunder.
Does the storm own the sky?
The ground holds the tree firm.
The sky carries the storm to its destination.
Will I let my possessions decide my worth?
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Personae
Mommy took a bunny to the abattoir and came back with warm fur around her neck with which she later hung herself in the closet. But people will applaud anything. Daddy multiplied into imaginary numbers and fed them into the laptop. Maybe if the music were turned off and Frank Zappa substituted, the jobless rate might improve, especially among the undead whom we still worship in a cult of the personality. The Russian subtitles are misleading and outsourced because money market funds require Mandarin in the new Asian takeover of our time zones. I love two flashlights when my head fills with blood and I gargle English backwards. In the distance, there are always trains mournfully bellowing like lost cows.
[Disposable Prose January 11, 2010]
Dr. Mike
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