A Flight of Ideas: Little Reagan

I was under powerful witchcraft and hoped I was possessed.

I thought of little Reagan; the tricks he did with the crucifix.

He was light in the head and rose by circumstance.

Were I novelist, I’d have written a story, but instead I spun
and spewed garlic.

Judy asked if I was trying to vomit and I snarled, “No! I need a
fucking exorcist!”

Judy said what I really needed was a time out until I learned
to behave.

I’m starting to think Judy doesn’t love me.

The staff carried me off before I could levitate.

Rob Goldstein (c) 2017 All Rights Reserved

Note: Seclusion is a
nursing intervention defined as the solitary containment of an agitated patient in a fully protective environment.

A Flight of Ideas – High Art

My cheeks are red; like cuts of fresh beef.

This clarity of complexion is significant but I can’t locate its source.

The source of significance is always obscure, like the meaning of “High Art’.

Let us assume for a moment that ‘high art’ is art that makes no sense.

Let us also assume that high art is useless.

By virtue of assumption, we enter the realm of critic: one responsible for deciding what is high and who goes low.

They name what we haven’t.

Delusional grandiosity is the basis of all civilized discourse.

What we say is true, is true, because we say it is.

Thus, I poke my complexion and objectively call it clear, but can I
call it high?


(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

In the City

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