I wrote today's poem super fast in between classes.
Kurt Vonnegut6 died. BUM-MER.
ha ha nice typo, I wonder who Kurt Vonnegut6 is? Some type of clone? Too bad he died too.
I'm reading this Sunday at the 440 Gallery, please please come!
WHEN: Sunday, April 15th from 4:30-6:00 pm
WHERE: 440 Gallery, 440 Sixth Avenue (at 9th St., F to 7th Ave.)
CONTACT: Brooke Shaffner at brshaffner@hotmail.com
Admission Free
Here's my poem:
MOUSE
Don’t thrust me into that opinion.
These vegetables hurt me, they’re so
unfresh their grimy, water-logged flesh
overcomes me, and I become happy again.
Time for the street, the street
which has started going a new way. I fight
against it and I make myself a wall.
The other walls kick me out which is pretty
prudish, I start my own society and collect
my cult. It’s not a dark cult but a badge
of pride. No candles but big overhead
lights, I’m no appreciator of the strange
but I have seen it, and this movie attempts
to correct that flawed assumption. What
we eat eventually hates what we’ve become.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
A sonnet + 1 extra line?
I wish. Unfortunately I never think that way.
Post a Comment