the inexact
the inexact language holds up a mirror cracked a willed error by a dogmatism backed a generosity of spirit lacked into the corner backed the
Tag: pome
sit and shit
can’t sit how i used to can’t shit how i used to time has abused you past habits have fused you and youth has refused
anger poetry
anger poetry can get personal seems like a rehearsal and an almost reversal into something other than confrontation so comes the hesitation to write it
the things that make me unhappy
the things that make me unhappy are not the day by day things the trappings of routine they are usually the small unkindnesses thoughtless actions
in the pour
am i a glass pouring nothing? am i water waiting for a glass to contain me? or does it all happen when i am drunk?
red and blue tapeworms
there are records i listen to books i read but there are no politicians i feed like an infestation of fleas they should be picked
making poetry
you are making food i’m making poetry small sandwiches that people won’t have to choke down dreams condensed into language and given wings in the
those legendary poets
the poets that we think we are are drinking at some legendary bar putting some whiskey-sponsored curse into a form of doggerel verse later on