On old age

When I am old (I am already old
says a man whose beard isn’t born)
I will bathe my joints in water
from Galilee so that I may better
lose them. When I have adapted
to the silence of intimately knowing
my senses were deprived to begin with—
of knowing intimacy with
all that ever was, or could be—
when I spew forth a melange
of pseudo-Buddhism and pseudo-science,
when I lie naked in a bathtub—
when I am old I hope I sincerely
despise the young man I was
for the incessant misery he wore
like a uniform he could’ve removed—
when I am old, I hope in between
my library and my other library
I have some friends (too human them)
with whom to review old, old poetry—

~ by Jeremy on June 27, 2013.

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