More in Cats with Opposed Thumbs, Chalices of Mucus, and Several other Oddities to Avoid Whilst Poeting
The politics of race
draft
I keep my pointlessness
In a yellow bucket
so I can stand in it
until my knees are pruned
I slosh around
In the thick hot coldness
thinking how the plastic
is really sunshine and
the loose wet virility
of philosophy are my legs
thinking how the air
is tingling not yet
until I come whether
I’m free
or free from thought.
I look up for more
there is nothing
but the aluminum skeleton
of an umbrella’s underbelly.
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