Nietzsche called them
Conceptual mummies
Those leathery corpses
Wrapped in linen bands
That tell us change
That tell us chaos
Has a direction
Has a highway to somewhere
Conceptual mummies
Those dead things wrapped
In hopes that chaos
Isn’t so general as it looks
Conceptual mummies
Nietzsche scorned them
Keeping all the while
As many propped
In corners himself
Conceptual mummies
The stays against
Not staying, chaos
Conceptual mummies
These things not things
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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1 comment:
Chaos is not random at all. Nothing general about it. It's all pointed at me, don't you see? Debilitating, invigorating, ever changing, it is the pinball machine through which my body rolls and bounces. Could somebody please point that thing the other way?
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