Poem #4

In the dubiously accessible castle of the status gaffer bashers, for a change, the prejudice feels built in to the glass cackles, rotting me out

There
In the nicotine glade
You may arrive
Twirling
Dissapproving
When you only meant to observe
Detach the man from the uniform
As you see,
Distinct
The will from the power
Don’t conflate
Don’t join the abberation
Order like this
‘Hiyah’
That you may parse galaxies
You may do all these things
And if you do
Add a penny to the pile for me
Pal
Bounce foot to foot
And if you don’t
Well
Add a penny to the other pile for me
Won’t you.
It is chill here.
Perhaps we are not fit for nothing.
Perhaps that is absurd.
Remember the seacrest
Pollonius
Carry the guess
To the fool in the pool
And whatever happens
As long as you live
You will carry some guess or other
That is our natural voucher
I guess
But one assertion that doesn’t need analysis
Is my elbows crooking out
Are flagging
And fun

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