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nat-lipstadtPoems
stepped on a sidewalk crack seven year's bad luck If it is chasms Y'all desire... sidewalk cracks freeze me in bad luck repose, firefly-in-a-jar trapped, hole'd enough to breathe, but no prison break escape come to live in my little space these chasmic concrete cracks my enclosure, my true cell immobile, it is what they mean when they say, "have you see his pen?" boundaries man-built serving a seven year sentence, bad luck my only laughing friend, my midnight to moon fiend~companion boon washer dryer closet n' bed all in a three by three metered space, my sidewalk castle now a nyc tourist attraction rain and shiner, the sidewalk cross mine alone, even the pigeons stay away, not so stupid as they look, fair game for dietary consumption technical setting details of no matter, but they come by the thousands not to see, just snapping tapping taunting the immobilizing invisible chasm crackled sidewalk poet, writing poems by governmental command, literarily and literally, for all to see seven is not eleven and someday only time will know, and advise when cursed lifted, then, he will never have to write poems for the public's insatiable need to mock and ridicule ever again
0
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
stepped on a sidewalk crack
stepped on a sidewalk crack seven year's bad luck If it is chasms Y'all desire... sidewalk cracks freeze me in bad luck repose, firefly-in-a-jar trapped, hole'd enough to breathe, but no prison break escape come to live in my little space these chasmic concrete cracks my enclosure, my true cell immobile, it is what they mean when they say, "have you see his pen?" boundaries man-built serving a seven year sentence, bad luck my only laughing friend, my midnight to moon fiend~companion boon washer dryer closet n' bed all in a three by three metered space, my sidewalk castle now a nyc tourist attraction rain and shiner, the sidewalk cross mine alone, even the pigeons stay away, not so stupid as they look, fair game for dietary consumption technical setting details of no matter, but they come by the thousands not to see, just snapping tapping taunting the immobilizing invisible chasm crackled sidewalk poet, writing poems by governmental command, literarily and literally, for all to see seven is not eleven and someday only time will know, and advise when cursed lifted, then, he will never have to write poems for the public's insatiable need to mock and ridicule ever again
8:35am this day
nat-lipstadt
Written by
nat-lipstadt
99/M/NYC/Lippstadt/Kraków
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
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