26 Years on February 28, 2014 from Crack-up Poems, Crack-up Songs

Numbers. Numbers calculating, cold clicks on a keyboard.
26. 26 years. 
28. February 28. 29.
If this were leap year, tomorrow would be 29.
28 is close enough. Too close. 27. June 27. The crack-up.
8. The dreadful divorce, the deep and dreadful October 8.
8. 8 months. 5. 5 months.
Added 26, 28, 29, 27, 8, 8, 5 equal 131. The one is for me.
The 31 is for the central number in the perilous tower.
It is I who know 31. I was born on that day. Daddy died on that day.
There is a 31 coming in March.
Hope of new numbers ends then.
Darkness shall descend.
Time now 2:11. Added equals 13. That’s a bad luck card.
If only it had been a 12. Let all numbers slip away,
And all counting, all adding, all subtracting.
Let all the complicated curves of numbers,
The message in the placement of numbers,
The Arabic counting that craves measuring and paying,
Let all fall from the whiteboard, the spreadsheet,
The computer window, the instruction, and the assessment.
No count matters, except to the heart,
And his heart is fickle as we have seen and seen
Again in this life, so why count?
Here is your food black cat. 0.
Your food is 0 like it or not. Eat or don’t eat.
Your food is 0 like it or not.

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