electric, I search for ground,
finding none, I body.
clouded, condensed, words
on your glasses, because I spoke too close.
if string theory is right, then you are
playing me like a fiddle. If I can ever stop
justifying my text, if I can prevent spreading
and thinning, if I can keep them close, then we can be
naked
because poems and poems and poems and poems and poems and poems and poems
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2007
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November
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- AIM away message haiku craziness / 10 page papers ...
- Lepner's Pond
- fragmentary compliments
- Homunculi
- oral fixations, haikus for your tonguely pleasure
- on not believing in tryptophan coma, but experienc...
- An old poem, chopped into bits, and served on a pl...
- An (un) Thanksgiving Poem
- let's play a game
- We Only Have Grey Crayons Here
- Poteen Evening
- Visceral Visages
- In the spirit of clarification
- naked
- bring the champagne....
- Well I'm Reading Novels Now..
- Saul Williams: The Inevitable Rise and Liberation ...
- Clarinet Hating (If Mr. Spena had Allowed me to Pl...
- Are Hooks Entitled to Interiority? Etc.
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November
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4 comments:
i just re-read this. it may only make sense to me. but i hope it doesn't?
this totally makes sense to me and it is totally 3 in the morning.. oh lawd..
haha
I should have posted the other poem. I think that would make this make more sense to other people.
No?
even independent it works well. we rock the hardest.
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