"subjectified" poems
I begin,
scrambled words on a page, free forming
moving pen before I think
what's happening to me?
The pen finds out before I can know
I wrote it for him, that book of nonsense
It is my life incorrectly remembered and subjectified.
My life as if it could be put in a pocket, finite
Life as much as it is finite, is infinite
Each second stretching inward toward eternity
while stretching outwards toward
the end.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Yesterday I hid in a termite mould
Today I take pride in terminated olds
Tomorrow I ride in permitted folds
I am a particle used and unused
I am a venture roused and doused
I am an adventure invented and tented
I owe nothing even the wind testifies
I am a universal exposure objectified
I am a concluded posture subjectified
I died on the outside and lived within
I lied as an outsider and lay in decree
I am a degree of composition in decay
For sure we were here in unioned eons
When the battlefield was in tatters
as splatters of blood stomped the earth
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 4:47 AM UTC