Randomly Composed Poem #IDontFeelLikeLookingUpTheNumber
THIS WRITER WITH ADD AFTER MIDNIGHT
should be storing up
dreams and cardiobrianular strength
for the next thorny day
but this writer
with ADD
after midnight tends to daydream on
writing, but not doing the writing because at 3
or so a.m. sleep is imminent
and quite patient on the shoulder:
don't try and raise the barn before the rainstorm,
wait until tomorrow, eh.
But o'course the mind works
and when it works
(see the ADD) it works and jumbles, mercilessly concocting
his next writing project on the
indestructiblastible page
of white all-for-ever; it's before the eyes, floating eternally there.
Computer screen, white walls, the ceiling above the bed,
they're all the canvas, or they're all background radio static from a billion eons ago
just barely detectible on the Earth of the imagination.
Some characters do the Charleston on the cap of the Mountain Dew
(probably which takes the blame for the 3 a.m.),
non-linear plots tickle amongst the rubber bands, an erudite audience gasps at a well-orchestrated climax of a possible story
in the shadowy cobwebby area between the desk and the chest of drawers.
Anna-Lisa Braddock who has never been written a word of (yet) is chewing gum on the windowsill,
now on the pillow case, now the floor,
now that Mountain Dew cap,
insolently ignoring the laws of conservation of matter
as she changes size. Her head stays cocked at her characteristic angle.
I wonder
if anyone else will ever see that tilt that makes her her
...because, see, Anna-Lisa is a wonderful and truly complex person
who comments very well upon our human condition(s).
She would change your life if I didn't sleep all afternoon.
One day, perhaps (screw the craft) I'll just plug in my head,
and upload via brain-to-brain connection
the electronic transliteration of
the pure hot white clay of
my creationing, to you.
(I'll be happy
if it keeps you awake with me, forget the life-changing.)
It will be an avenue, open at 3 a.m.,
for all of my Anna-Lisas to leave me by.
And I will drink much Mountain Dew.
should be storing up
dreams and cardiobrianular strength
for the next thorny day
but this writer
with ADD
after midnight tends to daydream on
writing, but not doing the writing because at 3
or so a.m. sleep is imminent
and quite patient on the shoulder:
don't try and raise the barn before the rainstorm,
wait until tomorrow, eh.
But o'course the mind works
and when it works
(see the ADD) it works and jumbles, mercilessly concocting
his next writing project on the
indestructiblastible page
of white all-for-ever; it's before the eyes, floating eternally there.
Computer screen, white walls, the ceiling above the bed,
they're all the canvas, or they're all background radio static from a billion eons ago
just barely detectible on the Earth of the imagination.
Some characters do the Charleston on the cap of the Mountain Dew
(probably which takes the blame for the 3 a.m.),
non-linear plots tickle amongst the rubber bands, an erudite audience gasps at a well-orchestrated climax of a possible story
in the shadowy cobwebby area between the desk and the chest of drawers.
Anna-Lisa Braddock who has never been written a word of (yet) is chewing gum on the windowsill,
now on the pillow case, now the floor,
now that Mountain Dew cap,
insolently ignoring the laws of conservation of matter
as she changes size. Her head stays cocked at her characteristic angle.
I wonder
if anyone else will ever see that tilt that makes her her
...because, see, Anna-Lisa is a wonderful and truly complex person
who comments very well upon our human condition(s).
She would change your life if I didn't sleep all afternoon.
One day, perhaps (screw the craft) I'll just plug in my head,
and upload via brain-to-brain connection
the electronic transliteration of
the pure hot white clay of
my creationing, to you.
(I'll be happy
if it keeps you awake with me, forget the life-changing.)
It will be an avenue, open at 3 a.m.,
for all of my Anna-Lisas to leave me by.
And I will drink much Mountain Dew.