M: manner than man;
L: Lashed unto lies,
2XL: I shall, I shall!
From my War—
Lock hand that
Soon we two
I’m canceling the projects I just announced, I cannot write those poems. I may release something this year full of poems about what I usually write about, but I cannot pretend the strange non-reality I’m awaking from is something I can lash words around.
I was validated in romance and swagger that an epic romance of mine revealed a Don Juan-level villain waiting to tear my heart apart. That the tragic romance has gone on as long as it has (still there is fall-out), is less painful or difficult than it is waking-up-living-in-a-distant-galaxy stupefied.
I am still the rebel “Dirty Mormon” guy poet and political revolutionary, and I’m sure I’ll have poem-blistering romances like Kyle and Daniel arise in my life. Unlike every other subject I write poems about, the more I write about Mason, the less I feel the world is comprehensible. If I were Albert Einstein, Mason would make me wonder if General Reletavity was just some dumb thing I thought of after a night of drinking.
Brian David out.
“I may be mad, I may be blind, I may be viciously unkind—but I can still read what you’re thinking.”