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Friday, October 30, 2009

???What For???


What For?

I put the

scattered

thoughts

on paper

and save

them for

what, I

don't

know

until

a chance

at some

ass gets

me to show

them and then

I am a part

of this thing

writers, poets, critics, scholars, opinions, academics, spoken word artists, slam?artists, out of work actors, publishers, editors, political party crasher commentators, schizos, communal outcasts, bi-polemiscists, physical wordsmiths, sexual intellectuals, man-made women, women-made men, art charlatans, dancing singers, singing dancers, musicians who pawned their instruments, addicts who owe their dealers, dealers looking for more addicts, pious gurus, zen bastards, alconumeric wordafarians, peformance enhanced prose speakers of tongues that have yet to exist, asexual predators, existence arbiters, half-baked stand up authoritarians, large scale chapbook developers, small press rack purveyors...

it is still

shocking

years later

I liked her

ass, but I

had no idea

what I was

getting into

afterward

they want poems

to compare to

other poems

in case the one

they wrote might

be similar or

they need to feel

like I need to feel

and in the dark

when we feel

with our hands

we might touch

each other with

an image that

gets at that bit

of stuff in our

deep center

that nobody

really knows

the essence of

we just feel the

words that poke

at it when they

are arranged in

a certain way

our reaction to

the convergence

of life inside of

ourselves spelled

out in line breaks

and stanzas

they wanted good

poetry and all I had

were soft bullets

that wanted to ply

hardened flesh in

to two sides of an

argument we both

can win if you take

the time to read it

and feel it like

I do

A. Razor at H.I.P.