This
longing is a poem that opens its eyes
Before
we say there are no accidents
We
tell ourselves our shadows do not fit
Between
these lines that there’s no room
For
our wrinkled souls in poetry the most
Ancient
creature older even than the stars
We
say older even than the jealous gods
We
answer yes but we’re tired of poetry
The
melodious beast of procreation
Rub
it a little and the music comes out
We
come here too often for these things
Listen
poetry we advise you to close
Your goddam eyes
and leave us
The fuck alone we've had our fill of fun
No comments:
Post a Comment