I have no state of mind.
There is no placard of explanation.
I have no still shot to present,
nothing like that
as freely given away.
State of mind is an antiquation.
State of mind lives in the brains
of accusatory types
who seek their day in court
as validation
is their working premise.
State of mind is a miss-belief.
It is the work of a poser person
who thrives on frozen images
as a currency of exchange.
State of mind accepts these poses,
anecdotes, and otherwise evidence
as satisfactory means
for the declaration of living.
I have no state of mind.
I am not a genre of expectancy.
I am only genesis embracing you.
State of mind is never a lap dance,
for it is motionless
seeking stilled distinctions.
Lobotomy will give you brain-state,
but state of mind?
Hey, we are the river of life,
not a life raft floating onward
and you want to document,
state of mind?
It would be a statue,
fast disappearing in the rear view,
a newspaper pleading for sun fade,
what is left of a sneeze
that has landed,
where the image of Christ
had appeared
on a half eaten bagel,
or lastly,
that place in you
that holds you back
and demands that you
justify your life
and document your living!
That’s what you’d get
as a state of mind,
yet vastly disappearing . . .
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