My plight is the plight of loving that form of ambivalence which is commonly wrought into the form of negatory sidetracking, side stepping and in the process developing an envoloping system of non-systemness, it is the plight of awareness and darkness ripping and rebuilding, loving and ignoring cause whereby yielding cause's cause in a form of expected unawareness. A cousin of no one, listening to events as they percolate in the omniverious ampitheatre of pathetic glee, the body who moves also stands still. The masculine hero, I know is a saddened clump while his clumpness is that which wins over the crowd whose needs to converge comes first and is absolute. We see weakness embodied and touch it as strength, we get strong on ourselves just to be and become a body, a body shared from the beginning and end up seeing only the movement of here and not here. I was here and I am here again, truly I do, know nothing, nothing I do know. The glass is half a glass and the water is half water both allowing their negation to be that which they share in a wholeness. I know there is chaos, wind blowing, isthmuses, sandstorms, orderlies, cannonballs, luxuries, arching harnesses of men's clubs and jokers, funniness really funny which puts the real blatancy of a commonplace banality where it might not usually be, or the holiness between your knees and turns something upside down, and gets held onto, passivity, adoration, and then me.   ¶ 6:53 PM