So many to whom I owe attention!
I’ll get a cenotaph erected.
I’ll get a cenotaph erected.
My actual bones are in my apartment but I got evicted
from there. I have some apprehension,
on my birthday, of being so conflicted
from there. I have some apprehension,
on my birthday, of being so conflicted
and addle-pated
that all my pronouns are in the wrong declension.
YOU know how it is when you get a cenotaph erected
that all my pronouns are in the wrong declension.
YOU know how it is when you get a cenotaph erected
to make sure your absence will be unsuspected,
and you get all tied up in the use-mention
distinction—you’re so conflicted
and you get all tied up in the use-mention
distinction—you’re so conflicted
that you wish all your light could be collected
into a hologram that will lisp your lover’s name
eternally—your cenotaph, your legacy
into a hologram that will lisp your lover’s name
eternally—your cenotaph, your legacy
shining in the dark somewhere, just an ignited
spec of space dust, forever.
It’s my birthday, and I’m so conflicted!
Guess I won’t have a cenotaph erected.
spec of space dust, forever.
It’s my birthday, and I’m so conflicted!
Guess I won’t have a cenotaph erected.
