Poet X : a treatise re: verse(d)

essay 39

the rate of creation of poetry is equal to
the pressure of green fire against
despair,  slowly raining ash from lost money
into eyes

forward, talk moves & dives urbanly

a gash
lists over random words a breathing:
neoteric links hold

if these are
the disconnections,
go till acid soil, papyrus digs itself up,
a drummer
stumbles on a new tongue;
lagged unrecent flappable;
regard at dagger non-point

you can’t or rather won’t
follow the pattern or trad form

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