a poem for today, 21 May 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of seven sentences and its image]
I figured they'd get lonely, and if you have one, you know, you might as well have two.
You see, you think clear and crystal, but every move, every sentence is a problem.
I feel like the man who is making a pathway through a forest of thorns.
You'd analyze me out of existence, but I won't let you.
If I have to watch Martha Stewart make one more goddamn thing out of goat cheese, I'm going to kill myself.
You could say that I came by my ideas honestly in that they derived from my clinical practice, not from personal erotic inclinations.
I’ve never seen a single toupee where I couldn’t tell what it was.
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