I know that whenever I conquered the weather
I floated along in the breeze
And I wanted to try
Just the once, wingless flight
So I aped like an ape, tree-to-tree

I visited brothers, dead sisters and mothers
Said howdy to Twain, Stoker, Poe
And I found out just why
There was hell, there were lies
And discovered who killed Ms Monroe.

There’s no time where I am, there is no Amsterdam
there is no Central Park, no New York
And I figured out then
I could change things from When
So I kept JonBenet from the dark

Now I turn to myself in this book on a shelf
Where I try very hard to exist
You might see me sometime
In your future or mine
On a page, in a poem, like this.



In convincing a person that ghosts are present
One must first assess the immediate environment
Doorknobs are handy
Especially if they turn from both sides
Books are useful
For they can be dropped and thrown
I once utilised both articles in a practical joke
Along with washing-up-liquid ectoplasm up and down the banister
My cousin had a heart attack
And died on the spot.

He still haunts me a lot.image