Before the internet went viral
descending toward the digital–electric hell of virtual
realities in which the mind keeps playing with itself
and love is left abandoned at the altar like a guru gone
unheeded and the vows of realization left completely unintended,
I would browse the local library,
which of course was just another stage of hellish A.I. reality the mind has played since mind evolved from swamps in molecules of
being,
and there within said library, I met a homeless man who read
the newspapers and whispered softly to himself
about the wildness of the world
and how the shamans like himself no longer could assist in
mind's complex descent from sky to ceiling—
no one listens anymore, he said to me while noticing I was
eavesdropping on his private conversation with the world.
