24 Apr

to midnight
and today I thought about
what was, what is, what should be
and why I want to grasp why 

a cold insanity
like blood extracted from a needle-pricked vein
bleeding out a pint less than what's required
to achieve the general behavior

while the audience screams for more and more

--distance sinks the swimmer

--velocity kills the driver

--heart attacks from the deadlines of task-masters 

--the merciless hammering of the punch-drunk boxer

who desperately needed a TKO without
discerning the mashing scramble
of brain bashed repeatedly by
the pronouncement of

--you are a loser, and that's all--

--or the writer who was told by
a mother that they would
never write well, with the words

--you'll never measure up--

you do not rate
that elusive place
of rest

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Posted by on April 24, 2021 in Poetry



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