8.16.2008

a poem for today

flatly = (rain x clatter) - bright green


Lugged out!    & piled on the ground, things mean.
even hours w impulse (thinking) keep you penned up; or a
wish unscrolls down a highwayscape turning broken fact.

We ought to know better than to let it all in
even singing just gets trapped inside passion;  go dig & try
leafing thru sprawled thousandish various word midden type areas.
(Cat sleeps in dim sun on concrete like a voice resting.)
Have a lot of shouted irritations.   pissed.   & shoving against things

(by Mark Prejsnar)

Lew Welch was born August 16, 1926

1 comment:

  1. i digsa how the hovering 1st line conjures

    KILLS BUGS DEAD


    (in the woods)

    (never seen again)


    there's always
    to-morrow

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