Today I slept 5 minutes in. When the floor of the bed shook hands and
parted ways with my ass, the tea was ready. Today I wobbled. When
moving my 45% couch across the house, I was really sitting. When
today came around, it’s tomorrow. It’s all ready- the baked pastries-
tomorrow.
Do whatever you want
to me. I like what you do.
I’m a fan of your work, I mean. disembody
poetry was all moving
It’s today that spends the night
to munch tomorrow’s toast, a fleeting
owl poetry. The undergoer that can pulse
in the crescent of sprinkler hoses
is potent rude. look at poetry, even creepycrawlers beat a retreat from
that poetry.
The words the Wordword words are bloated and
frozen. Today I slept skinny.
A comer and a goer in and out my doors,
jerry and gary, and the troggs too,
Smelling cigars is somebody’s hobby
somewhere somebody’s hobby smelling cigars What a backwards line somebody’s hobby somewhere hobbying the smelling of cigars. oh here’s one, cigars of the hobbyists’ delight smell those cigars like it is somebody’s business, you know the smelling of cigars. this energy
is limitless.
hid in a box, cigars from dad. a serious subject
because it is personal. The page is a battlefield.(alright, make an analogy) I’m not ready to command these troops across the poem.
it shouldn’t be alive
My poem requires ideas of juice ideas that juiceignite. This is basically a cold care kit.(borrowed language) Smelly slippers.(distraction. gary is a name I’d like but I don’t want any government to know how it is Skinny under a blanket of name. reader, don’t forget
your capItalizaTion.
Deargod,
What was I saying? Right, “Tobacco ads spread like cancer” on DVD VHS pie
charts. Thanks.
Suspiciously,
Chrle Epstn, bloated and frozen
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