(no subject)
lets start cutting up pieces of paper
and lets cut up the ones
i already wrote on, and
tape them all back together
on great big sheets of cardboard,
my poetry thrown up onto corrugated boxes
by some stroke of luck
the chaos theory,
(the same thing
that happens when letters go out
on neon building signs
or when alphabet soup has something to say)
there will be a single happy sentiment
somewhere in the midst of all those
amputated letters.
its not medicine, its the weather
its not my past, its all these people
i feel worse than i used to, but
i am not any weaker.
waiting for spring.
and lets cut up the ones
i already wrote on, and
tape them all back together
on great big sheets of cardboard,
my poetry thrown up onto corrugated boxes
by some stroke of luck
the chaos theory,
(the same thing
that happens when letters go out
on neon building signs
or when alphabet soup has something to say)
there will be a single happy sentiment
somewhere in the midst of all those
amputated letters.
its not medicine, its the weather
its not my past, its all these people
i feel worse than i used to, but
i am not any weaker.
waiting for spring.