right in the faceoh contrivance and conviviality
one might actually perceive
that they are
not
actually.
the s-
Ame?
Immense rush of poetry
flow words flow
flow like the Wisla, the Nile
the lines overflow with the streams of clauses
Rivers of parantheses
and as you ride the wave
of thought, of muddled clarity
all is presumption!
unwise, my child, unwise.
I strangle the text in a twisted left hand
twisted, my dear, do you not understand?
Twisted!
evil appendage
like twins
the words must not be misconstrued
my words, my pen, the flow of the water, the tide---
all these, not twisted, not twisted, indeed!
of verisimilitude;
sister kill it
for this degree in itself
demands too much of us
have mercy, good sir, have mercy
have mercy on us
have mercy on me.
spare me this desert of poetry.