Poetry Time: 11:20 a.m.

October 21, 2009

(Don’t ask me what this means because I don’t know. I just threw some words together. Though I am pretty sure I was inspired by Faulkner.)

Here in so many
long-winded, breathless
sentences,
the present shrinks into
the behemoth past—
marrow scared
back into bone.
Bodily regression did not occur
until the titillating
rotation of failure to digest
that overload of future…
short paragraphs with
breathless sentences
stabbing slow, burying deep…
those (s)words.

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