a poem for today, 10 March 2012
[a syllable sorted sonnet of 10 sentences and its image]
This is in no way a propaganda for a larger population.
Either I'm begging or bruising for you.
I enjoy large posteriors and I am incapable of deception.
A vulture of silence will eat your gut.
Let me see you dance.
It goes back and forth.
Let's take ourselves back to the "foundational crisis" at beginning of the last century.
Begin to see recurring themes, colors, shapes in the pieces of trash your eye is drawn to.
That's about where I am right now.
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