"voyer" poems
I walk days into the cities until the sad man shouts within the belly of my festering, backwards institution: "Hate me for the songs I can not sing."
If you walk long enough you will begin to see everyone you know, passing you, not looking at you passing, voyer-platonic you see.
A ghost begins skipping trees, branch to branch. Tried and true I send to you my best wisdom: defeat the peace and don't overstep your heros.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 2:47 AM UTC
In this chair is where I'll be,
It is where I will be when I write the grandest novel.
In this chair is where I'll be,
It is where I will string together the most magnificent predicate,
I will sow my words to make the most wonderful sentences.
In this chair is where I'll be when I watch it all come together,
A Voyer to the construction of a spider web of fiction,
Spun so gracefully.
It is a lot to behold in such a chair,
a chair in which chafes the fringe of my buttocks.
A chair that wails.
It is very old, and its cracks are showing,
for after all it is little more than a dying tree,
mutilated for our comfort, though,
it has become my own discomfort,
In this chair is where I will be,
When I purchase a new Chair,
and the that is where I will be......
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:45 PM UTC