leitmotif blues

this is so hard harder than leaving childhood epiphanic but
life ahead from here backside of the mountain to where? 25yrs
in the tall yellowhouse mouldering 35 in smouldering marriage
today many handymen ransack +amok trying to match paint and
patch scars one pipes in just hide the cracks bringing to mind the
Japanese art of Kintsugi
the beautiful breaks humpty-gold in the cracks dumpster at the ready
for my treasures +me but HARK! the faint leitmotif breaks on thru
i’ve heard it before
my soundtrack
my argument
my question
my fate

if one more faux stoic says: amor fati i will shiv em your fate is not a
burden if you embrace where you came from despise your origin story you
rot my old mother did (not rot) often saying: we were poor but always had food
she said that to all the fancyladies at the rez they who pranced in their diamonds
+deshabille shouting WE LIVED IN WESTMOUNT! well you ain’t living in
Westmount anymore bitches
why can you never step into the same river twice grasshopper? by the end you
cannot find the same river or any river your leitmotif your thesis is now your
final breath when for the first+last time you truly live in the fucking moment
+ btw fuck Ram Dass
__
..we do not rush toward death we flee the catastrophe of birth
survivors struggling to forget it fear of death is merely the projection
into the future of a fear which dates back to our first moment of life..
(Emil Cioran 1911-1995)
Spring 2025 let my people go Dathan!


