The Well
When many children were wondering about Things, like how birds fly;
I was simply wondering, asking only "Why?"
Why do things Exist, and Why are some things Wrong;
Why is Life so short, still at the same time long?
Thinking about atoms, and what things around us seem;
Contemplating how to see the Nothingness in between.
Stumbling through so many questions, made what I knew seem slight,
just a tiny fragment of a large and endless night.
And as a child, I grew somber, and as a child I fell,
down the hole of thinking,
down a philosophic well.
and then when I
was there
at the bottom
feeling
small,
I knew the
only question
was
Why do we
ask at
all?
If questions lead you Here,
And the well seems like an end,
then drink a bit of water.
Start now to defend;
The asking of the questions,
is truly just a start;
the real thing is The Asking brings you
closer to the heart.
So, drink a bit of water, and use it to grow stronger,
Because if you learn to love to question,
you may Be a minute longer.
Queen St
I have searched the usual
places...
It's arcane poetry night
in Freda Kahlo's left
atrium. And the B-Movie
Set is a ghost town tonight.
My heels have started to
bleed I
do not want to play connect
the Pink Dots
with you anymore.
I stop on the sidewalk
in front of
Death
(or what used to be Death)
and light a cigerette,
Afraid
my car won't start.
Afraid
that cat and mouse
has lost its charm.
