The Mind Shook Fits with a Pen
Because I couldn’t type deliberate and preciseI took it upon myself to say,myself to myselfso there wasn’t any confusion,all of
Experimental literature and art
Because I couldn’t type deliberate and preciseI took it upon myself to say,myself to myselfso there wasn’t any confusion,all of
Tragic hero, coupled and juxtaposed with chorus you are witness to your transience and continenceyou are a formation of structure
Waking Mind You clank when you walk, as if you were a rototiller on edge tearing ditches into public roadways
I step in dead shoesclay feet with toes of stoneI stand and pause between pacingsa refugee from the referee who
No one is home, or maybe they arethey’re just not answeringwe cannot connect fingersacross the electronic divide data mines data
Thick books of poetry are dauntingseemingly taunting from behind their coversraising phrases that could’ve been yoursbut pushed by others we
I am an onion beneath the surfacea bulb petrified by the flashI think myself into faceinto attentioninto mass reflectioninto oblivious
Like every aging manI think about the things I would do or say different if given a do overthe others
Blinded by the clockcounting dollarsindexing worth to secondschained to interestworth in existenceI am an hour Everything I say or doleaves
Some justice is whore justicebecause more justice is wrongI am the neophyte plebeianposing as exemplar, dredging syllables into songI take