deepundergroundpoetry.com

Attic of Janus

�
o vida loca! �
how vague i am
�� to 'conform' �
�� you
who am i to be?
voyeur or participant,
stiff cynic or rigid soldier,
tired nihilist or blissfull buddha-ist,
nonsectarian shaman or impartial commissar
desperate waster or boldly fighting resurrectionist
blind blueser or fairly free from illusions writing hand?
�
those are quandaries of imaginare twillight.
when �darkness is as if the shadow of the light,
and the light - like a reflection of the darkness...
�
absurdly is to sail those canals of dasein
if i am one zozo le skizo
dwelling under the underground
in the attic of Janus..

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