My body is tired after last night, but I think it was a real success. Thanks to all the readers and especially the audience. My back hurts so I'm going to keep this short and go lay down.
Here's my poem:
BACKPACK
Events vibrate through my bones,
that's how I hear about stuff,
I have a little system of my own:
feeling goofy in the shower, can't
believe you left your pants on,
but forget it, we're rolling, action.
Fancy desk and fancy pen, this
is later. The moisture makes
my window sweat, it hurts, baby,
my tummy is red inside, I look
nice with the colored lights
from the jukebox hanging out
on my face while I hang out
at this bar we like, telling a story.
I don't expect everybody's face
to be able to follow me here,
but this cave is really a nightclub
and we're going to enjoy ourselves,
false alarm, let's stay at home,
that television person's face floats
an inch above his head, which is
hurts me to look at, it's the perfect
size, I'm going to buy whatever this
guy tells me. Back to the show
about cops arresting
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3 comments:
I really enjoyed the event! Thanks for putting it on, and sorry I had to cut out early.
Also -- I finally got around to responding to you. It's in the comments in the original post.
I should mention that there's a Charles Manson quote in this poem. It just sort fo slipped in.
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