Thursday, May 7, 2009

these words are not mine these lines are nothing but lies the paper which this is printed on is soaked in blood the ink is gathered from dying children in one of those shanty towns far east of here or west and the letters which construct the words you are reading are dreams of dead men that mean absolutely nothing you want something recycled I beg you to begin here at the quarks of the written word a miniscule vocalization on the page represented by some arbitrary character an utterance a stare that could only be expressed with an elipses or projected on and off the page with strategically placed line breaks and stanzas this isn’t the only way you see when you really think about words and feeling and emotion and physical perceptions the letters break down and the words become components to the greater story it is in effect Nagasakian by the logic of several dead American men this writing is greater than the sum of its parts.

1 comment:

SKM said...

i like this one