those days when you do not want
to cast a shadow and incidentally
curse the sun
those days when you want not
to want and are lassoed to
noose thought

that demands no thought before it
and you comply as a lowly
lowly lowly lowly peon
that shines as bright
as the light reflects

we blame comatose feet
that wait for messiah
to point to anywhere
so we can march to
some charming being's
conviction

these days discretion weighs down
like a thousand gazes to oblivion
every decision weighted,
scaled, calculated,

gridded, girded, designed
quantified, and made practical--
so a yes is a concession to doomsday
and a no is a merely coy means of leverage

we, the first myth,
I, the second,
they, the third,
will destroy
(in such
sequence)

until i learn
to craft the forms
that form me