The first footprint is an epigraph.
Fusing justice, medicine, and theology;
advancing the tension between free learning
and complacent study.
Nothing is manageable. Nothing at all.
I have resorted to reading the labels
on antibiotic bottles
and shampoo containers:
the detailed excursions lose their radiance
exponentially
and my prayers
are becoming idle demonstrations.
Almost everything is humiliating nowadays.
Perseverance
will elicit laughter. Mockery,
the child of standard.
A severed mind suspended
in bright orange resin,
the darling of a new exhibit.
The philosophy of pornography, the eye of the curriculum
and a cyan-hued plate
of the earth
just another inanimate article
found in an expensive buffet.
These people are captivated by lists
and bottle caps,
soda pops, and chairs with cold backrests.
What do you call the phobia
of depths, and the suffocating expanse;
what do you call a flat and crumbled
disconcerted husk
as it leads an orchestra of trainees
in the performance of a borrowed song?
A lime
in place of my liver
A rhyme
written in a dim hotel bathroom.
Nothing is manageable. Nothing at all.
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