a poem for today, 6 February 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of twelve sentences and its image]
That's the centripetal force of the unsexiness of daily life.
Style is the person to whom I address myself.
I do not assert that any hypotheses are true.
All I know is I love sucking her cock.
Irony is always happening in this totally sincere way.
When the paper was rustling the hole was silent.
One day you'll learn not to dream at all.
Were this not done the chaos would be complete.
Thank you for selecting one of our seating solutions.
It's the little deets that make a big dif.
If the self-portrait is unflattering, I can’t apologize.
Those who would like to may call that terrorism.
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