10.9.17

I don’t want any part of this anymore.
let’s revert
to the summer of pomegranate
margaritas and overloaded sunshine

because what we have going
will no longer do.
There are only so many hours
a man can sit alone beneath

a pepper tree and think of his
past as if it were someone else’s
past and pity that other person
for living such a detached

and insensible life. Once I was unaware.
But now I am the opposite
and with eyes as wide as countrysides
I pray that they will someday close.

Clarity has been achieved
and it is middling.
Oblivion was a better state
to live in, for when all is darkened

distinctions fall away
and there is no telling one from the other
and everything is extraordinary
because it is not there
and everything is extraordinary
because it is precisely what you imagine
it to be.

Nothing.
Bliss.
Nothing.

Written at 9:25 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.