We bide our time.
\n\tWe have too long to wait for the next poppadom (and we hope there's not another poem).
\n\tWe have nothing to say and we know that we have said it.
\n\tThe truth of our insincerity is plain – in return we receive spam from florists in Pakistan.
\n\tWe want this new kind of yellowness.
\n\tThereby we forge a shortcut to nothing.
\n\tOur wives, our pets, our husbands interrupt us for good reason.
\n\tWe seek solitude in the queues of those expecting something.
\n\tWe walk barefoot to the tops of obvious hills to see if our thoughts will be lighter.
\n\tWe are the same and refuse to accept it.
\n\tWe drown at the idyllic beach of certainty.
\n\tFame beckons… the recluse, the martyr, the ordinary.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We bide our time. We have too long to wait for the next poppadom (and we hope there's not another poem). We have nothing to say and we know that we have said it. The truth of our insincerity is plain – in return we receive spam from florists … Continue reading