a poem for today, 9 April 2012
[a syllable sorted sonnet of eleven sentences and its image]
You think in such three-dimensional terms.
It's like I am doomed to procrastinate.
Where was he going in that icy dawn.
She had a young face, painted very thick.
These are the doggies and they are our friends.
The bigger the lie, the more they believe.
It was sort of a druggie bonfire kind of vibe.
Come home to my penis where you belong.
The Calla Lilies are in bloom again.
He who hates himself is not humble.
Watching what you think you want simulated on a screen as a way of passing the evening pleasantly.
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