dante, peroni, a bass guitar, talks about gay marriage, american splendor--this was my day. yes, it was slow. i'm in inferno, reworking my way to the bottom for the fifteenth or sixteenth time. dante tells us that the poet is like the grandchild (nepote) of god; sometimes that sounds good, but perhaps we are all grandchildren of whatever divine forces there might be. anyway, this is an appropriate time for me to be in inferno.
in terms of the marriage thing, anyone who knows how left i am would know my answer. in some ways my predictability bothers me. i want a voice outside the gears of the machine, yet my voice is the same as others outside the machine; moreover, i'm not sure a machine exists. maybe, to borrow from the existentialists, i am an absurd hero, conscious and still continuing.
all of this somehow works into the poetic. perhaps in my poetry i'm attempting to tap into or flow with the tao.
in terms of the marriage thing, anyone who knows how left i am would know my answer. in some ways my predictability bothers me. i want a voice outside the gears of the machine, yet my voice is the same as others outside the machine; moreover, i'm not sure a machine exists. maybe, to borrow from the existentialists, i am an absurd hero, conscious and still continuing.
all of this somehow works into the poetic. perhaps in my poetry i'm attempting to tap into or flow with the tao.
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