Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Kit Kelen #929 - why tribe?

why tribe?

one pile of me here
another pile there

I put on my glasses
already on
and my hat
how much magnification can I stand?

the sun burns a hole
through which we can see

I am a tourist in this skin
I am a traveller in my own blood

the thing on its head is the best way to view

one thing meant this
but God meant another

the heroes were all fists
hands of a held sword
nobody you could trust

not a thing but prophetic

I hide to be a tourist here

fool not to pass on
trumpet music
and here comes a wall

tumbling, tumbling

the medicine of pogrom centuries
once you've learned the secret
all in over our heads

the country surviving only in symbols
I will survive that too

another blast of the horn

one skin peels off and I think of a snake
consider myself as plague of locusts

when I could be myself
get together with
we could start an existence

has to have been some medieval torture
to stretch me into the shape you see

I bring with me someone lost to find
that's a very normal thing in these parts

and as for myself, for my own belongings
I come as close as words

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