Lines only exist as descriptions; it’s the same with words
which flare into being and vanish—straining against vacuum.
A word implies neighbors, phrases, lines,
a poem is an exploding implication.
Author: asoulinprogress
(it’s gonna be a staff)
Go outside with a big stick; use it as a gate or a poorly insulated cubical.
Two rednecks will pull up. One will explain what the hell he is doing here.
The same one will suddenly yell “Hey! Honey! I Love You!” before concluding “ain’t Karma a bitch.”
You won’t know what the question is until you write this.
||||||||||
ta ta / ta ta / ta ta, tata:tata
if you ever loved me
and believe in magic
this is the time to cast a spell
Oh, my soul
Main Content
Imagine I’m a mime berating your neighborhood. Fences become scaffolding for my ARGH! skins; I plaster them on everything. Great big ARGHS! on windows and gates and your cul-de-sac becomes my exclamation mark.
By the time you gasp, you’re covered in assorted ARGH! stickers, ARGH! patches, and a cute ARGH! hat.
“Oh, my soul.”
Endnotes
If you imagine that well enough you will understand the public shame I am facing. A collection of plug-ins, scripts, podcast solutions, and possibly Terms of Services, have colluded to destroy my creditability and happiness.
social network integration abuse
Out of the naiveté of pure joy I decide to tweet “For you: anthophilous, lover of flowers”,
The earth fractures when there’s not a Twitter bookmarklet in my Bookmarks Bar.
I am left in a ruined landscape. There are chunks of what some claim are clues of a former society, but it seems unlikely that anyone could have ever lived here.
And then I see a Share button on the Poetry Foundation site.
The landscape sprouts momentous pine trees that dig deep into the sandy soil. I breath deeply and relax and the sky goes black.
Followed by the thunderous launching of a new tab being populated with thudding hailstones of esoteric social services.
cOOtopia?
ZingMe!
Poetry Foundation, all yourelses are Zen, your AddThis is not.