The self can't be improved.

I have been in a cave

With a million bottles of fine champagne
Somewhere north of Reims
I have been on stage with a neon wand
Planting magic beans
with the back of my hand

I have been to the bottom of beyond
Read a stack of wurdz wurdz wurdz

Which I didn’t believe
Been mobbed been conned
Been smacked in the chops by a squeaky cop
Seen the big in the small walked through a wall
Unraveled the world by the light of the moon

But The self by itself can’t be improved
Of this there is no haughty affirmation
Worth its weight in sand
That makes one little bit of difference

To man nor beast nor brick nor prune
That the self by itself can’t be improved

I have been to the gutter to the heart
To the finish to the tent
Been swimming in the river
To the church to lament

I have been to the physical depths
Fallen out of bed and met my match
I have swooped through the air and space
Been on fire and jumped from a bridge

I have sworn and wept and swooned
But the self but the self can’t be improved
But the self can’t be improved

For the self is fixed like a diplomat
To the rules of the game and the cut of the pack
To the end of the race
To the strength of the sack
To the extent of the grace
Which falls from the spool
To the condition of the brain
When it’s finished being schooled
One thing remains when the sediment settles
Like the steam from the rain 
and the lime in the kettle
That you might need faith to sit on that stool
But the self but the self can’t be improved.



photo nicked from edith peck - thanks E. x