March 9, 2015

irregular regular poet tree...

photo by EJR ©

irregular regular poet tree 

hanging wet sheets 
tinder painted words
empty moments burn
ashes waiting, fill 
embers wading, spill

the thirsty words  
can be instinctual 
or learned 
over the course 
of our collected 

seasons, some 
of us reason 
come only 
by way 
of our 
own arcane 
shy away 
and carve 
the dark parts

this kind 
of solitude
is sometimes 
all right with me 

I confess 
I do enjoy 
on occasion 
getting myself 
boisterously drunk 
at the helm 
of riverboat, logorrheic 
writing what 
vomit piss or shit 
the light 
inside me tries 
to get through 

there could be 
a chance 
something good 
is snuck in mining 
base humor secret velvet(s)
and I don't give a fuck(s)

learning by detriment 
however, is not necessarily 
a strong suit 
in my regard

but I've yet
to surrender 
my last poem 
to sound...

I have found 
silence is 
always thirsty too 
for that matter 

but this one 
a little stage 
stooge careening 
is far from my last...

right here, please
mind the exits left

(la mia piccola 
poesia all'interno 
di questa poesia)

"...the mad hatter 
and march hare 
they wonder, 
does individuality 
bear it fair price 
or is everything 
these days 
latently meant 
to be thrown away..."


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