Sorry about the late post. I was mugged in Harlem last night. I'm fine. Here are yesterday and today. Poems about falling down.
Posterior (2/3)
In the back of my head there is a voice - constant drone - whispering
so quietly - a mumble in the dark
It is a prayer to continue - a hymn against collapse
Pancake (2/4)
as in flat as a - twisted metal is mille crepes - is
geologic process in cement bathtub - It is severe
clear and falling like it was meant to implode
is paper fire - it is sliding off the griddle and butter
fresh - the sound of static - of people losing it
It is constant reminder of mortality - a drying
shallows filled with flesh
fills the plate well - presses every corner - was
pressing was made to press - It is a sponge for
our sorrow - a metaphor for myopia
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