Treading water still and dead as the crypt
Sun hasn't moved since the world weird slipped
Out of the picture into the myth
how the hell am I supposed to
hack my way through the pith
I imagine shooting through a curling wave of now
but down here it's sewing up the ears of a sow
and this down in the mouth is such a stale bit
If it tastes pithy
it's because I pithed in it
hey that's my dad's joke he ain't around no more
In my mind's eye I see him slipping out the big side door
without a word no without a backwards glance
well he was never so attached
to this stupid dance
But I am here so I'll toe up to that line
hardly knowing which still having to call it mine
right now the center pith seems bitter not sweet
Guess it seems the recipe
Still must be incomplete
what
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