When I was growing up I was sure of two things. 1. I was retarded and 2. that I was adopted. – eventually I learned that 1. no and 2. no.
however, there is lingering doubt remaining about both only because my nature is different and odd and my nurture is fantastically imprinted.
I was also told that I couldn’t carry a tune and was in speech therapy because I was monotone and thought to be tone deaf – both of these ended life being not true as I have become an accomplished musician and a pretty good singer.
If I was so motivated – this would be the start of my autobiography – or my memoirs as they call them.
what follows is probably terrible or terrific…
the great idiot of us all
the rain sleeps;
passed the nickel
through gates of wrath
after
observedly pounded on
windows and
doors and windows
doors and windows.
slept under lit porticoes
and flooded swails.
– last night I wrote this but may take it back
the platitudes of willful resemblance 