#alteration
You want to be manipulated,
you like it this way,
to be robbed from your agency,
to be imprisoned deliberately.
And in the sandbox play as you will,
With known constraints
And known space to fill.
You want it altered just so enough
As to tell things apart,
But to be told where they belong,
Hinted at what’s right or wrong.
And in the new stuff find exhilaration ,
But newness is old news;
Just give them the passion.
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 11:52 AM UTC
I wonder about Austria. Is it anything like cancelled Czechs?
Do pigs fly? Is there a stranger there, to complicate
the one in me? Or must I rearm my filling station?
Can we trust otters to indicate us
(who seem us only in the evil rush), our
end never stooping to think? Oh, I was so right around you,
my sonnet birdcage, once. No, cats' tails immersed
in the frozen swamp are about all I have time for.
The daylights are so Polaroid. Yet time is often self-
centered. At least that’s how it feels to me.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC
I am concerned with that venison in America
But the juice is soured.
This weeping as I wanked out of control,
After breaking cross-haired whims,
Galloping backward and forward, ahead the past,
Behind the unfamiliar future,
What were we doing, or were we,
The mattress, the limber of lice, or of loves
We were measuring olives, continually?
A moon soon to be forgiven
In crossed girders of past, hip Brooklyn charcoal
In this peeping that has sized you again?
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC