Tuesday, June 11, 2019

The Complaint of the Free Souls

I am a person. We are words.
We are a person. I am not.
Words are not persons. Persons

Are not persons without words.
I am a fool. Words are words.
And where does the world come in?

If we could break free. If we
Could loose ourselves from the fool
And live, free words, with no need

For beasts, for persons, for brains
To harbor in, repair sails,
Scrape the hull and wait for wind

To carry us to other
Harbors where we’ll do the same.
If only we were ghost ships

And could sail unbounded seas
With never a need for shore.
Not persons, then, much more.

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