a poem for today, 6 November 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of six sentences and its image]
A truly green vomit, befitting someone like you.
When someone is entitled to your kindness, angrily demands something of you, or even shouts and berates you, the service worker’s job is to smooth it over as if it weren’t happening.
It's possible to engage in mechanical sex with someone you're passionate about.
Someone please tell me none of this is really happening.
It's a little hard to dissolve someone in salad dressing.
To think someone actually sat around writing this is disturbing and a case study in mental illness.
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