JBrower
04-07-2010, 01:58 PM
Some mornings I give a Gregor Samsa wriggle and feel
for my toes, but mine are the many-jointed legs of a cockroach.
What am I? Does the I change or am I always ever forever
in a state of flux, rheumatos like the synovial fluid lubricating
my swollen bug-joints. No one gives me sideways looks like the Samsas
gave Gregor, but I still feel the mundane undressings disdain of familiarity
pink generalizations. The air is hot burns white crackles with static
and so you need not stare I feel you probing, eyes or not what is he?
What am I? dont stare; your eyes do pierce Im just Gregor
on pavement, you are the shoe dont stare; your looks deride
I presume to know myself no better than you.
for my toes, but mine are the many-jointed legs of a cockroach.
What am I? Does the I change or am I always ever forever
in a state of flux, rheumatos like the synovial fluid lubricating
my swollen bug-joints. No one gives me sideways looks like the Samsas
gave Gregor, but I still feel the mundane undressings disdain of familiarity
pink generalizations. The air is hot burns white crackles with static
and so you need not stare I feel you probing, eyes or not what is he?
What am I? dont stare; your eyes do pierce Im just Gregor
on pavement, you are the shoe dont stare; your looks deride
I presume to know myself no better than you.