June 10 by The Running Son
the Great Installation poem
What if this is all an installation?
Just a poetry revelation
of an artist’s interpretation
of his life within the matrix,
writing dreams within a post-manic
savior-save-me complex, all post codex.
I’ll post poems next. Please
don’t go away, or leave me guessing
in this place within a place
inside my heart, defaced in places
that scars had mended after ages
(except now, faces never really see faces).
Am I really here?
Or have my posterity
finally descended upon me?
Please, let me be
the man I really want
to see. Then again
there’s always time, and other days
to find the real me,
in some other time we lived in,
or the times I’ve seen you—
your child deep inside—
It’s very being.
We can see for miles with child’s smiles,
you and I. We’ll offer distant kisses,
miss the light, hit the wall…
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