some memories ago we were sitting in empty
stadium of light, befallen concepts like halloween mini chocolate bar wrappers
scattered and everything like buttered dust, the many creatures around like
fantasies or exhaust, pear blossoms (or was it bear bottoms?) in the air like
ratatouille spilling from purgatory’s dirty green bins, everything like a box
of atavistic hope wrapped in athena’s mons hairs which, as reputation goes, are
longer than the distance between mirfak and hd 223229, thick as rapunzel’s
braids, strong as the alphabet, …
you’re a poet?
a voidist
avoidist?
an avoidist
anavoidist?
an anavoidist
bananavoidist?
an anarchist
antechrist?
an anti anteantianavoidist
poet
i’ve heard it all before
once you’ve heard it all before you turn into
a poet
once you’ve heard it all before you turn into
a craunched marmoset
which came first, the poet or the avoidist?
marmoset
what did marmaduke say to the marmoreal marmalade
on marmara?
this is the way it’s gone today
marmaduke?
it wasn’t funny
the marmoset was a little bit
craunched or uncraunched?
sadoo diaper
sitting in stadium
bear blossoms buttered
everything goes
alphabet empty
concepts like dirty
air like a distance
befallen exhaust
there, history on rutters. it entered from 219
with a couple from the nation’s capital looking like civil servants, never seen
madness or poverty but through media. we went with it, poetry tends to
the couple said nothing?
the dude asked a few questions. edited them
out
i don’t mean to be realistic – there are so many prefixes – but where
did it come from?
219. i told you
but before that?
6a probably
you know what i mean
ultimately no
what about unultimately?
probably no too
they didn’t have that faith in poetry, that
it could do anything, that it had any energy or light from outside, that it could produce, alone or in aggregate, even just in
the soul, more compassion than cruelty, camaraderie than desolation, calm than ennui.
for poetry is not a planet unto itself, lacking relation. and the poem not some
form apart from smallmindedness or war
rev bonobo leaves the way gi came, 541, 14, hope
like dirty ratatouille, reputation purgatorial (as it is), diaper like a leaf or gum in bleachers in a stadium in homo sapiens, poetry legacy software still
somehow running in the os of our hearts
