The bigger we grow the smaller the galaxy becomes. The bigger we grow the more expansive the realization of unknowledge hits
I have been working on a new poetry project, though.
… a few free write poems that came about in a unique sequence which involved the sense I should share them here.
…which is to say that if I stop believing I exist I will, in fact, cease to exist—or else my cat is the reason I exist, in which case, I’m doomed.
Eventually, you find the frozen plums in the icebox.
More poems need to be written and others need revised, but I’m feeling pretty fantastic about seeing my writing evolve.
Who in their right mind would acquire 2 overhead projectors, anyway?
the broken and the menders
the fates have spoken / so that’s all
you try not looking despite your curiosity
try to otherwise
until you make up your mind / to learn to fly
What hierarchy / suggests / your impending / fruitions?
because all people everywhere / know that knowing causes / the greatest sorrow
It’s just a matter / of how many layers / of “me” you release
This writing is less the craft heavy and prosody poised work that keeps process hidden behind closed doors of the poet’s writing studio and their intellectual hesitance, and more the freestyle, live over home-made beats push for moments of flow.
Now I have fancy looking cards with my important information on the back and I can be confident that I won’t miss another possibly interaction with interesting people.
(The obvious difficulty in producing individual collages, each to be given out as is, quickly became apparent…but still, in the name of process I, the editor, continue)
I mean, I’m not trying to be Patrick Batemen.