Thought the centuries and there they are

A sober Whitman, but a traveler of the indoors.
Technicolor is all we’ve ever had, and more
the poorer for it. Let us dissect what the brain
gathered in its sleepless wanderings, while
the roofs turned red and I abused this body.
It’s a short change of things that brokered
our intellect to a piecemeal slinging of things
we once wondered at. The centuries we learned,
being well-read and slobbering from the tongue,
taught us nothing since our brain crept in,
slobbering, and tainted at the first. Oh thoughts
that gather and disperse and lead my hands
and all hands to perch on themselves in enough
of themselves to finish their own protest,
I thought I taught you better than this, since
I thought I taught you thought is recompense.

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~ by Jeremy on June 10, 2012.

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