Happy Thanksgiving

Language is my

last ditch attempt at nobility

I have the appearance
of everything
But
       I have nothing.

If I fit
into an archetype,
it is
the one you've seen
before, in movies
     Wanderer
     Explicit character
Out in the open
,
Rainbow,
lurching from no beginning
lurching from no end
lurching from no beginning to no end.

As easily
fit
as Animal
stowed on board
The Ark

Out in the open

Heavy-handed proctor
of words,
Deliciously consuming
try this try that

At my own
ex-pounding,
Create is king,
I Am
serving all who hear
near and far
the grandiose revelation of the soul.

When the words stop
coming, then I am done
I am foreplay for others
to pleasure in the climax of
their own
lives,
in the office, in the field.

Nature has bestowed
birthday upon birthday
that my own bloody fingertips
from
       paper upon paper
                       rip open
.  And I get
Blood
all over my presents
from
Too Much
Ionian Iteration.

So I walk to streets of Paris,
with my bloody hands,
and I wash them in the rivers,
nestled in concrete,
not going
anywhere.