Wednesday, January 31, 2024

WHAT DAY IS IT



poetry books filled with slime

pages of this year’s books

full of damp

covers of paperbacks curl upwards


what was the problem?

not enough rigor

no motivation

or a crowd of lesser, but easily got, satisfactions

blunting the will

and spelling the death of hustle


not enough witches

not enough wolves in the throne room

not enough darkness on the throne


perhaps there was never enough geometry

to begin with

I sure as hell neglected

mine


LASS UNS LEBEN

scream the German elephants

which if I had the imagination

I would totally do


why does my cellaphone smell

like meat

why  does my plasama screen

smell like alcohol and mold?


why do all creatures run away from me


how far in that direction am I

allowed

to travel?






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