Tuesday, April 22, 2003

poems once purged the ghettos of old europe

The Bitch

this poem is not correct
no, wrong, right?
this poem will never speak sideways
which opens giving birth
this poem never fucks spits curses
it has never had a glass of water
this poem is not a way in
for outside is always sunny

we all learn best at play

this poem is not an architect
piled to the ceilings
this poem is not a banana
for it tastes bitter
this poem will not sit outside
waiting to play tag
this poem will not be quiet
loud soft sexy it stings

and breathes like i do

this poem is not my Self or Anyone
for words are not birthdays
this poem is not a way out
looking for meaning
this poem is not words or sex or violence
all i have is time to spare
this poem will never arrive
late early never always

it came before i did

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