Ars Poetic^ 2.2

My poetry?
It’s like Big Bird
walking into
a bar

and (after a few successful strides
towards the water fountain)
tripping over a canoe
that just happened to be there

before brushing himself off
catching your eye
at which point

you’ll both become quite speechless
though after a few seconds
it is only you to (so suddenly) feel
out of breath.

 
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Now read this

ENIGMA

It begins as it always begins when the mind has blown itself astray, below the bruised ashtray of New York, New York headlines where– at the top of a Bushwick Fire Escape as a matter of fact– a pigeon pecks at his post, at a... Continue →