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Down Cold April 12, 2007

Posted by vsap in Blogroll, Poetry.

I have white washed my sensations imaging I had covered them with the best emotional paint. When I try to make them opaque it only makes them something they ain’t.
Like the worst criminals, my mind swerves back and forth over a fine line between genius and bizarre. I have no defense I can think of to explain why things are like they are.

My world is wide open, seeing things deeper and clearer than anyone I know.
Yet, often I see my world as separate from reality; It’s like comparing New Orleans in August to Aspen’s January snow.
Is this a genetic defect, handed down from father to son?
Or, is it a depth of character and sense of being
that has skipped generations and now look what it has done.
I’m no prophet.  I’m no seer of things beyond my present eyes.
But I say things and I don’t know where they come from
and I can make it hard for you to discern truth from lies.
Was I born with it, or has it been practiced somewhere in subconscious folds?
I know what I know and I can say I know what I don’t
because I have the concept down cold.

September 25, 2003, Portland, OR 



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