I
met a man who finally quit the Rat Race.
Put him in his place:
He said: “I found all of this peace & tranquility
& now I live in a barn near a creek & a lonely road
where no traffic can disturb my sleep,
but oddly, I miss the sounds of grinding metal,
but other than that:
the horses, birds, cows & all of the other aerial things
keep me alive, dead, asleep, awake, barely moving!”
The man who quit the Rat Race
thought that he was giving back to the Universe:
As much as the Mystery means opting out
from where you were to where you might be,
I take one very seriously who says
“I spent winter naked for the most part,
didn’t fret about it, just wanted to amend my body,
scribble life-notes & dreams in the dirt
on the walls of places
because I have nowhere else to expel them...”
If we were as elastic as Impossibility
the huge jackpot might be part hymn & part
cologne bath to block, to sabotage
the Rat Continuum
like a downed plane? Corporate environments
moving beneath our feet, spinning.
Everyone scurrying. Born, set loose.
Oh how I love The Great Escape in my head:
Leaving to get away from it all
in my mind: In short, a City can be
a friend of God’s orbit greeting a particular Mess;
the proximity of a Thing; Virgil’s vague
lulled desire, I call it like it isn’t
to run full-steam towards Nomadic Thought.
I can race a rat if I must: open a hotel
in Paradise
& call it Paradise No-Tail:
Cat took the tongue?
Well, I’m touched with a vague wistfulness,
puncturable, homely, untamable, all the atmosphere
of Escaping The Rat in the muggy alleyway
with a vague whistle far off.
Jump into jagged Jacuzzi with the Janitrix!
Existence might manifest the
mathematical-side toward requisite exfoliation.
Ghostly selfie missing.
Perilous transition. Reactors square to the Earth’s
core. Fish skeleton in the tongue.
Naked particles scattering off each other,
hot air balloon
belonging to the Nordic noon.
Put him in his place:
He said: “I found all of this peace & tranquility
& now I live in a barn near a creek & a lonely road
where no traffic can disturb my sleep,
but oddly, I miss the sounds of grinding metal,
but other than that:
the horses, birds, cows & all of the other aerial things
keep me alive, dead, asleep, awake, barely moving!”
The man who quit the Rat Race
thought that he was giving back to the Universe:
As much as the Mystery means opting out
from where you were to where you might be,
I take one very seriously who says
“I spent winter naked for the most part,
didn’t fret about it, just wanted to amend my body,
scribble life-notes & dreams in the dirt
on the walls of places
because I have nowhere else to expel them...”
If we were as elastic as Impossibility
the huge jackpot might be part hymn & part
cologne bath to block, to sabotage
the Rat Continuum
like a downed plane? Corporate environments
moving beneath our feet, spinning.
Everyone scurrying. Born, set loose.
Oh how I love The Great Escape in my head:
Leaving to get away from it all
in my mind: In short, a City can be
a friend of God’s orbit greeting a particular Mess;
the proximity of a Thing; Virgil’s vague
lulled desire, I call it like it isn’t
to run full-steam towards Nomadic Thought.
I can race a rat if I must: open a hotel
in Paradise
& call it Paradise No-Tail:
Cat took the tongue?
Well, I’m touched with a vague wistfulness,
puncturable, homely, untamable, all the atmosphere
of Escaping The Rat in the muggy alleyway
with a vague whistle far off.
Jump into jagged Jacuzzi with the Janitrix!
Existence might manifest the
mathematical-side toward requisite exfoliation.
Ghostly selfie missing.
Perilous transition. Reactors square to the Earth’s
core. Fish skeleton in the tongue.
Naked particles scattering off each other,
hot air balloon
belonging to the Nordic noon.
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