Grocery Lists, Bad News & Poetry
once upon a time it was the last
I didn’t want to go back touching
to bring good luck inside a Hallmark card--
that vagrant parrot, a player in middle management.
there’s nothing practical left to do:
haunt artistic lines.
Rose Kiting: how good the fury.
be your own person: misunderstood--
the tasty times are rare
commons married with air:
charming quiet paranoia.
demand more than sewers,
dog excrement, art & a bag
sweat the small stuff.
peek, seek all.
it isn't lost in the mailbox.
we are kind of regulated in impromptu instances.
the your is actually you--
enthusiastic about vocal sounds:
up up up.
your name, your intelligence, your beauty—
none of that fucking matters.
Elaboration – this time with lines from my own poems over 29 days. i jigged a bit to make things fix. that’s it. thank you & good night.