I dress up in the morning/ I lie awake,/ coiled and hissing. /I’m sure on time for a funeral./ I calibrate all remains /issued on dry land,/ I ignore warm lords in season/I can peddle gems later,/ I will return to the vacuum./There is a portrait there/I’m curious about the lenses,/ the eyes entertained, / so smooth and solemn./I must permit myself/to breathe without smoking,/wonder more about red meat,/I grope it with my hand./I reached the border/in the way of canals/, I wanted to see different,/wanted to see more./The price of purchase,/to take pride in song,i/n cahoots with the spinners/it is my birthright./I lacked the days left/drained by an amulet.
Room For Rent
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Poetry in Motion 