I come from the walls
Triangles and sticks
My mother had no breasts
So I fed off myself
Long before I lost my father’s name
From the beginning I stood on my feet
Learned what bullshit was
From reading classic books
I neglect history
Have made enough of my own
I am the first and last of my kind
Not a monkey man
But a man of the mind
Fragments are the answer to slowing time
And if you survive a thousand falls
You’ll evolve into what I am
The inhuman voice
From a different age
Past and future fused
The philosopher sage
I hear colors
Smell words
Touch feelings
Taste sounds
I am what the ancients called clown
A master of oral lore
Heartless but undamaged
Ruined but remade
Logic intensified
I came from the walls
But my fall was from the clouds
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This piece was first published at “The Rusty Nail” (2013).
Benjamin Grossman 
Excellent piece of writing. Opening quintet is very strong. I read that in ancient times, priests and clowns were often the same person. —CC
Yeah, clowns (tricksters) are important to many cultures, I’ve read also. And thanks for reading. Always nice to see you around.
Likewise.
I love how you described the senses.
Thanks so much.
“I hear colors
Smell words
Touch feelings
Taste sounds”…wow!!
Thanks. Perhaps my favorite part! 🙂
this is honestly one of the best pieces I’ve read in a long time, Ben. Really really good🥺❣️
Thanks a lot. Glad you liked reading it, because it might be one of my favorites I ever wrote. 🙂
of course!
🙂