which 'me' will you read on this blog today?


the imaginary one

who speaks through the literary personae

of Wraecca or Ghost or the Entity

and moans like a Rimbaud unfortunate enough

to have made it to the age of 59?

the nostalgic Beatnik who talks pussy and visions

of some pharmacological Paradise

while tapping at his keyboards in his comfortable den

with a sandwich and a cold glass of water

retreading old melodramas of romanticism

ridiculous in our brave new world of technology and alienation?


or the 'real' one

in love with his one partner but not blind to the parade

who tosses and turns each night worrying about age and money

who knows his litany of life mistakes inside out

and inside out and inside out ad nauseum (and won't bother to check the spelling)


who retired a month before our world economies collapsed

and finds himself as shuffling as in his youth?

who's older and wiser but discredited in these matters

enduring the 'tsk-tsking' of the obscenely fortunate

and the malicious fellow traveler equally

too sorry to even be sorry any longer?


or yet another 'me'

who stands aside and watches both and spills the beans about

either one who happens to gain ascendancy in my day's

particular mood

and knows that I am neither one and both of them at once

stands up for neither out of paralyzing ennui or bright eager

vital zest to be at the day while the day is happening

careless of either though he knows he should be

because he knows people will hear and see what they want


to hear and see and he's not psychic enough to know

just what will return at some point to bite him on the ass?


reader I'm curious to know also and when I stop caring

that will be it for this blog


be it received by who will receive it...



Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.