it's cold out
and the wind is cutting through the tops of the trees
the roots, the whole of the timber stand
snearing back, like a lost thought, run over
and over and over run.
what depends on me is dependent on me
and i depend on nothing, but that depends
on how independent i feel, and well, i just never have
felt the need to disappear completely, just completely disappear
in a temporary way.
laughter is sunning itself on the golden rock hard reason
of a two cent pickup truck sticker of unlicensed calvin
pissing on artist's rights.
i piss on artists rights and rightly sew the seeds of disillusion.
so what?
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