Be The Peculiar Child.


Be the peculiar child.

The child spoken about
In hushed tones,
As parents bowed their corpse lips
To their child’s pink ears,
“I don’t want you to play with them,
Understand? They’re weird.”

The child who built
The Tower of Babel
With Lincoln Logs.

The child who stared
At the sun
Until blindness gleamed
Like neon,
Darkness prevailed
As a consequence
Of potential.

Imagine Reagan serving dinner
To Jane Adams
At the Hull House. Or Margaret Thatcher
Reviewing S&M photographs
Of Bettie Page
As they preach God
On a ledge. Imagine Ezra Pound
Teaching insanity to J.K. Rowling.
Or Obama riding the interstate
With Eisenhower. Imagine Miley Cyrus
Party in the USA
To Beethoven’s deaf approval.

Imagine an abattoir of individuals
Stitching their limbs together
To construct a Frankenstein cliché.

The ultimate beginning
Of original thought.

Is a choice waiting for an opportunity.

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