deep in a
dead heart
art free
gone blind
nowhere jag
he said-
poetry
is
really
only
about
putting
words
in
an
order
editors
like
now isnt it ?
i wanted to stab him then
with his own
plastic
yogurt
spork
but instead
i took his lunch money away
and
threw
his
leatherette pokemon satchel
into
the
school run traffic
from skyairservices.com
i call myself Blandipher - a Meat Algorithm
and
stumble
thru
another echo morning
looking for inspiration
in
the
normal light
-
on the AM bog i read
in his own words
that Asimov
can
knock
out
a
story
in two and half hours
(of course he'd never tell his editor that)
AND
not
change
a
word - have it out in print that week
lucky Asimov . . .
-
i call myself Blandipher - Mr Loose End
chasing the soft needle - unthreaded . . .
and
i
compose a fragile sub-pome - a weird winking beam
shining
like
ghosts
thru the fog of a difficult night
a harder morning
an impossible week
about
the
rotting horror
of a
sudden
organic cider
dump
and
splash
and tho it could disappear
before
i make
it
to
the
typer - if i do the chances
are
it WILL make it to the web the same day
-
WEB Asomiv !
the same DAY Asomiv !
have
that !
