Monday, July 6

the anti sublime

the haziness of hot summer and of cigarette smoke ----shimmers on blacktop---- makes me feel like I could melt. like my \\\ self could melt away. . .

i feel the weight of what is NOT me and of what will exist when i do not.
     But, 

            I guess,
they're the same in a way: me and [           ].


. . . \\\ .


the mundane feels vast.
the "greatness" of "[un]-me" feels immense,
but familiar,
like. . . . . .                
. . . \\\ .

''-'_____________''







How ever so sublimely we live through it all!

-rae