Some men see things as they are and ask, “”Why?””
Some dream things that never were and ask, “”Why not?”
Some look at what’s left and say, “what happened?”
Some look back and say, “what do you want from me?” as they walk, gone.
Some see a bird fly and dream wings’ construction
Some get right to the delicate work on placement, and a cage,
I once saw someone so surprised by his vision
He tried to reach under his eyelids, to pull out the miraculously evolved instruments
I saw one sleep so long that when he woke, he tore off seeking an eye opener worthy of all the lost time in the world
I asked a bartender type, or anyway, a professional listener, what to make of my insides
He told me we don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are
And to look within, one should take at the very least a ladder, flashlight, and some rope
if one can, you oughta bring along some help
I saw one staring at the sky, laying on a green hilly grass carpet
and realize now it was a different thing to approach such a one
than the stranger I saw staring up into the void on a busy street, perceived to block foot traffic
questionable, a plaintive why, to give out with either concern or grievous charge
of a separate throat
Some men see things and remain unperturbed
though heaven trembles for a witness
some men keep watch and drink groundwater till their belly bursts
Some are blind
Some without reason
Some going hungry
Some long dead and
Forgotten by
The beings causing, making question
Some deserve thought, Some devour time
I’d like to meet someone who never asks a single question
But arrogance upon their lips, looks at me with that wrinkled brow
Like if I were to interrupt the silence
I’d just be muttering, another lie
The Haunted Typewriter 