Saturday, July 30, 2011

07.30.11 | we play our cards

Cometh.
Don't tell me
someone
taps
on the porch.
I don't want to hear
sudden touch
crosses slowly.
Don't ask questions.
The Cardinal's.
I see you,
we met before.
His name and
settled first
smiling for the photo.
We play our cards.
I may change,
I was doing wrong.
There was a mad dog.
We've been waiting.

(By the way, this poem was "written" using the cut-up method. In other words, it's kind of like flarf.)

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