Tuesday, May 18, 2010

my definition of hope

standing
in
the
kitchen

my
cigarette
begins
to
"canoe"
as
they
say

a
sliver
of
rolling
paper
unbitten
by
the
cherry
ember

it
hangs
on

&
altho
that's
its
destiny

it
refuses
to
go
up
in
fucking
smoke
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.

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