Life after good grace,
I just want a taste––
lips like honey, wanton,
non-age-restricted
how does this song go?
In the place beyond where
“Dear PC Officer”articles
reside, taste has no meaning,
writing is not delineated
by what peers consider
short enough
for the virally infected,
where no choice is to be had
beyond the stark reality of
the hack,
carving his way to survival,
immemorial, sleepless.
Jerky energy, between the lines
pure survival, this writing thing
the credit cards are maxed,
the old ties slack,
burn the house to generate heat.
Baby needs to eat.
#endurancewriter
This is why I value poetry - there is often a meaning that I don't know myself before I fold it all together. Words collide, separate, mix, extend. And in the center of the maelstrom, meaning is found. I rework it for about five seconds and then it is out there, for posterity. Longform is where I edit, reedit. Poetry is my bebop. Some said it was a fad--I call it innovation.
I just want a taste––
lips like honey, wanton,
non-age-restricted
how does this song go?
In the place beyond where
“Dear PC Officer”articles
reside, taste has no meaning,
writing is not delineated
by what peers consider
short enough
for the virally infected,
where no choice is to be had
beyond the stark reality of
the hack,
carving his way to survival,
immemorial, sleepless.
Jerky energy, between the lines
pure survival, this writing thing
the credit cards are maxed,
the old ties slack,
burn the house to generate heat.
Baby needs to eat.
#endurancewriter
This is why I value poetry - there is often a meaning that I don't know myself before I fold it all together. Words collide, separate, mix, extend. And in the center of the maelstrom, meaning is found. I rework it for about five seconds and then it is out there, for posterity. Longform is where I edit, reedit. Poetry is my bebop. Some said it was a fad--I call it innovation.
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