I have a little Attention Defi... what?
Lost my focus, I can't see

Not quite done with A
Now I'm moving on to Z

I cannot master anything
My interest starts to shift

I know a little bit of everything
Believe me, not a gift

If only I could focus
I'm afraid that isn't me

I might still have a chance
If I can master OCD

Sumptuous morning
still unbroken
not a single word is spoken
untouched by feet or passing paws
yawning breeze gives soft applause
and combs the bed head tangles
from grasses newly woken

Edgar Alan Poe is dead. Seriously, I read it.
He died in October 1849 - or did he?
Do we really know?

Poe wrote about death a lot,
he teased with it, it was his favorite tool.
He kept death close and twisted it like a knife.

His profession was the macabre, the shadow,
the summoned dread and the gruesome aftermath.

He was a writer and a critic - what’s more dreadful than a critic?

They say he died from “unknown causes”
- how absolutely perfect.

It’s not like me to connect with some man
Over the internet
I wish I could
Fall into it from afar
Get the tingles and jingles
Long term
No matter where they are
But I’m not a long term tingler
Without real time
Association
I fall into heavy like
So often
But heavy like soon fades
Into “I sort of remember that guy”
Maybe the problem is me
And my unwillingness to really try
But my flakiness has been put to good use
I’m the poet with
Infinite muse