we are such a cursed being, I think, to have to think about what is, rather than to just be it.
tell it to play me something sweet
sweet surrender
to a metal box
not metal
more than metal now
materials I don’t know
don’t understand
how their collaboration
plays me something sweet
a holiday movie
the lifetime special
my sister’s favorite
why not
feel good, be good
be god
play god
pray to him
her?
it
[latin it]
ramblings
the tv in the background
playing
politicians debate
60 seconds
to answer an
unanswerable
thank you
sir
thank you
you’ve said enough
we’ve cast our judgment on you
god’s cast his judgment
its judgment
her judgment
not worthy
no second date
thanks for trying
thank you
you’ve said enough.
but we’re not done
I’m not done
I’m still here
asleep
awaken
rude.
ramblings,
noise
I’ve always hated poetry
bizarre
how bizarre
the pieces of our life
that come together
an old song
from high school
my old school
her new school
he wasn’t even in school
yet
can you edit
poetry?
seems like it would lose
its
charisma
Microsoft word
just uncapitalized
the ISMA in charisma
it also capitalized
Microsoft
(I did it that time)
and squiggled my
uncapitalized.
again.
dave matthews
is going to drop the
devil
to his
knees.
am going to drop the
gods
to their
knees
tenacity
whatever that is.
I think I am going to make that first sentence, a thought that arose while reading page 296 of my Dial Press Trade Paperback version of Kurt Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions, the title to that poor excuse for a poem. Maybe I like poems after all. They’re v. quick to write.
No comments:
Post a Comment