a poem for today, 17 October 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of eleven sentences and its image]
You’re plight isn’t your fault; crossdressers are to blame.
Academia creates the abject in an alarmingly stark way.
If you can't raise consciousness, at least raise hell.
This area has been declared a prostitution free zone.
Paradoxically, it takes time to become what you are.
Death will cure many of the desire for immortality.
I think I’m falling for your contributions to materialism.
Nothing that would interfere with our very erotic lifestyle.
There is a plasticity of the real to language.
Once you’re in the game you can’t age naturally.
A sentence cannot begin with because, because, because is a conjunction.