Monday, May 12, 2014

poem || Lawrence Upton



It don't mean a thing
to swing you have to cajole
automatically
heaps of shit sometimes
just
       sing
ground notes and difference
two sound pictures
making
             up to each other
both loud speakers
or two separate voices
or
     a voice and its echo
off a shiny wall
or a fart out your arse, uttering
forcefully
                misunderstanding
where you are
signaling zigzagging fascination
ideas
          relying on rhapsodic conversation
often the same and always fresh
till whatever’s combustible dies

No comments:

Post a Comment