Thursday, November 26, 2009
ORTHODOXY
My throat was stone
when I broke the words
when I broke bread with misgivings
and left them by the wayside
when I formulated the current
and predicted a devastating
flood of one. Leave me be.
I fulfill this empty backwash
I can’t swallow. I am an abandoned
project wallowing in bureaucracy.
I am a sign of the times, a shadow
slowly grading out. I am an ink blot
at the end of a contract never signed,
I am the half-finished condo tower
glinting in the tired sun…
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THE DEAD ARE THIEVES, TOO They’ll pick your pocket clean, like that Ozark you left by the river. How many times do I have to talk to you? ...
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CIVILIZATION AND ITS’ DISCONNECTS Turn off your computer. I know, I know. I will cease to exist. I will return to my cave of shadows, ha...
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