a test of the poetry reflex

Entry for August 2, 2007

8/2/07

Just an exercise

Tumblin in the rough may be so rough that even if it were enough it wouldn’t matter

Stumblin’ on the street pushed out of your seat head hunted nailed down to a platter

Thought you’d recognize, to express it wasn’t wise now you see out through your eyes your lens is shattered

There is no way to express the unseated duress you won’t even confess you’ve grown fatter

Alone behind those eyes your naked self it lies it even denies all else that matters

But the truth it wont be fooled even after you’ve tooled and muted it reputed it disputed it twisted it dismissed it and buried it.

You celebrated on the grave but you forgot you were its slave when you said you married it

Now from your hollow stump a new born green leaf lump unfurls the tender clump that carried it.

So all the tell-tale hearts all pigeon-holed in parts thrown out dead on carts in the ground tarried it.

Started to stop Up from the bottom top dear life again to drop upon your disfunction.