everyone around you is greiving

Month: December, 2018

what is poem?

why does crazed prose seem to yearn it? how is memory or anything come across succinct when all the everything form both worlds is swizzle swirl and color songs like fluff levels or underwater time? prose like surfing a math problem, maybe, or start at the beginning tao of pooh bear is god? it’s like sledding past conversations… I don’t know. dad says writers don’t write from memory, necessarily, they sort of, write what they write and try and clean it up, best they can.


my spirit animal knows this

my stay at home secret companion knows this

my tiger in the reeds knows this

my poem is as a poem does knows this

my pooh-faced cloud incarnate knows this

my soft cloud disposition knows this