Nothing seems real yet I’m willing
to play ‘the real’ game for ones I love
and when I’m sick I go get pills
but more and more hovering above it I’m
and then is it a question of for who that’s why
I no longer have memories I don’t care about them
though I can contrive more but I don’t
belong in them anymore ‘Do you really think
everyone is benighted?’ someone in effect asked
I guess I said yes what emanates from me
is crackling love electrical currents an aliveness
everything else I do remember playing games
Pac-Man at midnight in the months before Ted died
Jim Carroll’s favorite being Ms. Pac-Man
one has an official position that humanity’s history
has erroneously deemed women untalented
ineffectual at its projects over literally millions
of years therefore humanity’s likely to be ‘wrong’
about anything no everything and nothing what-
soever is happening except for pain isn’t this
ridiculous yet I like to remember Jim Carroll
mooning Ted at the entrance to Julian’s Billiard Academy
the first time I met him he was showing off for me
and had a pearly ass this is cerebrality
but not within the time frame of my research
Somewhere in a room outside this whole place earth
an infinitely large unshaped one
this poem already written is being translated
through tubes or pathways into my mind or heart
I am and it’s all covered by me who already wrote it
I don’t have an audience we are a membrane of re-
ceptive contiguity abstract abstractly avial and wing-white
I.M. Jim Carroll