Number 55

Break on through let no one stop you. Push the knife of life harder. Find what’s to be, ways to see that where you are is where you ought to be.

Look outside; it’s snowing. Catch a snowflake on your tongue. Don’t let it melt. If it is raining, freeze it into a cube. Take the cube and make it an egg. Hatch a plan.

At the root of that plan should be health. At the buds should be aggression, acceleration. The stems are paths to take. Follow one like a stream. Ore in hand. Float down, down, down. Find the falls. Let them freeze too. Walk out of your kayak before it melts with the snowflake and look for land. Follow the lighthouse to shore. Feel the sand under your feet, in your hand. Throw the sand and watch it fall like the frozen-cube-egg-plan-rain. Shake it like a snow-globe. Like a ball. Throw the ball. Let the air catch it and throw it back.

Deflect the ball with a club. Hit the moon. Watch the moon fall. Freeze it. Take moon-cicle and turn it sideways like a spear. Throw it. Watch it sail into the swamp. Dig for the spear of moonlight in the mud. Find a worm. Feed the worm to a bird and watch the sunset with its kin.

Raise its kin as your own. Watch them fly. Feed the kin to the worm. Leave the swamp and make for the hills. Find a cave. Go into the cave. Sit on a rock.

One thought on “Number 55

  1. Posted on March 29, 2012. From the post as well:

    Author Note: The title says it all. This is blog post 55. It has no meaning, besides being blog post 55. I am kind of trying to make fun of people who see deeper meaning in everything, like filler in songs and the like. This “poem” (if it can be called that) has no meaning, but sure as hell sounds deep.

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