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Dennis Willis Jun 2024
I was, again,
trying to do good
flood
This poem tests if you are psychologically beyond 8 kilometers.
Dennis Willis Jun 2024
My brain is fried cakes
it stares in confusion
as it knew what this meant
a moment ago

and then I wrote it
and it was lost
and having abandoned
the entire effort

fingers confused and
unknowing as to
which keys
should be pressed

have pressed these
as if there is another
in here too *******
i wrote this not you

not again anyway
at this perplexity
of leaving off
and beginning

as if a batter
rose in heat
and solidified
a triple treat
Dennis Willis Jun 2024
I'm still

I'm running
still

I'm still running

I'm still
running

Still running
Still running
here just here
running

I am here
i would run
i should run
i ran
holding
still as if
it would spill

and it would
it would spill
it would still
everything
Dennis Willis Jun 2024
How was that sandwich
was it everything
you hoped
How was that <your adjustment>
was it everything
you hoped
How was that <what was that>
was it <complete as pictured>
How was that
was it
are you
everything
of course
you are everything
think about it
everything

between your ears
everything imaginable
flails

must you wail
in this eloquence

read out 'tween sips
an' considered

naught, agreed
Dennis Willis Jun 2024
did they all just want
a life
they could pause
and relieve themselves
maybe
get some popcorn
an' come back
Dennis Willis Jun 2024
i slaked a thirst
i maked a first
i naked a burst
know what i mean
there is a tonic
for what i have
there is
for what you have
it's 8 dollars
for the
thought of it
nor the naught
of it
i'll


if you hadn't
knives
i'm here to help

find you're
your
missing
knives

cut you
i'll


do something
with something
sharpened

tho I'm dull
as a gust

scales fly off
dull in the gust

no longer
that

cold
ness

shrink away now
this arrow
never knows
Dennis Willis May 2024
I miss dial tone
it's sonorous
reassurance yes
the world is on

these bars
stepping up and down
when i close my eyes
lose their sooth

the waiting
hum of the world
would carry your
very vibration

down the line
you would own
miles of line
with your tone

there were some
they called
"long lines"
you could say "um"

it seemed
to cross time
and you
were tethered

my voice
driving one
miles long wave
rising and falling

across rivers and lands
to someone, me feeling
as if my own sound wave
could nibble on their ear

i don't get the ah
anymore from this
this connectionless
shredder of vibe
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