Saturday, March 17, 2007


here I was expecting nothing to come next
and something did I flinched to think
it had, I tried to put together what I thought
that I would reassemble some long afternoon

only it arrived pre-made my job was to examine
it the fiction came along as if to compensate
for vacancy of effort I expended not at cost
but at the price we never speak about the price

I thought that it would go like this one thing
beyond the next each next would transsubstantiate
my eyesight and my thinking and my psyche and
my dialect my diacritical condensation my elapsed

young thinking on the brink of happenstance
my cursive scrawl my printing and my capsized
sense of servitude my lifeline my configured
regular intrepid sense of true north where to next

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