Tuesday, March 3, 2015

this is not the white page
this is my life unraveling slowly
this is the sound of energy swimming
these are words doing their broad sounds.
a period is not the mass communication.
i am going to smoke a cigarette
and contract cancer;;
why is poetry so evaporating
why do i love my parents
there is something i want to say
in this unsaying of it
there is some continuity in the
patternless routine of my
orthodox hierarchy

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