I Wanna Take You Haibun by Scott Watson




Is it that we envision a godhead liar? A god we’re indebted to for our living a lie?


There is nothing in the world left to believe. It’s a shock. No more lies. They’re all believed up.


Still we wait in line at a lie station. Creatures of habit. Even then it’s self service. Used to be “fill’er up, buddy,” now we’re the father of our own lies and must lie to ourselves (such a burden): “I’m really happy!” “This is the greatest country in the world.” “We are a free people.”


Tell ourselves “our boys” are not “over there” killing and dying for lies, our durable linoleum lies.


Because we’re pumped up now. We have full tanks of prehistoric death. Death from the land before time when there must have been real life.


When all lies are gone there’s no more world. Nothing to identify. Where are we? Then our lie-life lines are broken. We are lost. Then we are living on empty. Emptiness like nothing in our pockets, with only life in our lives, to die freely.


Old pond
lives for




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