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Andrew Wenson Aug 2011
Black squirrel carrying walnuts to her nest, wary of winter's triumph.

- Stephen and John drinking coffee too late to notice it's time for bed.

- Seven-forty, golden skies, power lines intersecting, delivery.

- Going out of business, entire stock fifty percent off, buy more save more.

- Houses are taken from the elderly and they are put in condos.

- R C A cables, seven cents, an iPod wait to be "used" again.

- "Do you still feel thirsty?" the man asks her as they set the table.

- Listening to dub without step is dub at its best, one would believe!

- Impatiently stabbing into the White-Out with a pen yields ****.

- On TV there's a documentary about its own history.
My first attempt at writing in Ginsberg's American Sentences form.
Andrew Wenson Jun 2011
What's to be said about
A culture that commands us
To get rid of our love
handles?
Andrew Wenson Apr 2011
Small children draw 'pon the sidwalk
Small-dicked men drive ****** trucks
A vagrant sleeps
In a shopping cart

His mobile home
Gives the finger
To social norms.
Andrew Wenson Apr 2011
My hair has grown but my body lingers
In childhood trances
My brain? Anxious, Insane.
Torn between values and ****-it-alls,
Objectivity and nihilist paradise.

Coffee grounds keep me caffeinated, awake,
Giving a ****.
Then the high disappears, and I quiver
Full of arrows pointing
Into every possible corner of existence.
A breath is taken, a step withdrawn,
To be deposited in gold mines;
Of murderous reason.

So I stand at the peak
Of personal enlightenment
With a handful of delirium
And a head wound.
Andrew Wenson Feb 2011
Heavy-lidded
Sleep deprived,
Misplacing words
Tunnel vision

Lucid images
Demons and dead relatives
Swimming, swimming
Through lost class periods
I am obviously not a morning person, haha.

— The End —