i feel off-kilter. and genuinely identity-less. other days i was thoughtless and kind
now i just don't know what to do.
i am a mountain. i am the ghost - rabbit personified.
i read all of "howl" by allen ginsberg. i plan to write that on sheets of paper,
and keep it with the rest of my favourite poems.
there are not too many.
what if i disappeared? i'd be happier as a real woodland animal.
at least then i would have a place to be. and, a general reason. "you're such a rabbit" - i wish. how do i remember everything? i remember much,
recently.
"how many years can a mountain exist, before it is washed to the sea?"
p.s.: post script
re-reading abel's island / i am a deer by d without hooves.