their decay and occupation really had you down,
had you really clinging to it like a clown
as in sticking to it like a stamp (sad)
the american light, language, rights you should’ve had
I tried substitutes but them poems know the real meanings
I left some for you in a room in another meeting
I am happy to report they are confined by neither skin nor log nor ivy league porch or ceiling
I am happy to report they fear no quarter nor mortar and much nor mud nor sheetrock border lynchings
I am happy to report there is nothing worse than a whiny clock and much better nor worse a holy order bitching
and by the way these maps do bear a torch and handmade stitching
and very often may offer every tiny garden windoway the heart pin pinching
They are simple and short.  They say you are here, and you are.  

Inspired by a cut-up of old poetry journal pages


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One thought on “Oboes

  1. rupísima says:

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