Inscenced not indignant.
Bemused not befuddled.
Bespoke not beholden.
Beloved not betrothed.
Vouchsafed by dint of condescension.
I am howling.
Interference for interference sake.
It’s raining, so I bought three pens for two dollars and ninety nine cents before tax.
What surprises Them about me, breaks my dummy heart.
I smile unconciously.
Caseface as Britt said back when we are all servers,
going home at night to the Isleland of Misfit toys.
And how my upper lift now curls upward.
trembling and pulsing up and down over white teeth.
A wolf’s mouth starting to growl.
Starting again to howl.
Fear? nah. maybe.
the timbre was ash and cherry.
Cinnamon and cheesecloth.
Poetry is everywhere and we’re the only ones who can see it?
But then I read what I’ve written and its just word lists.
no pomp puffery, no pithy trick for the wolves playing sheep.
so I show it to you.
Cuz I’ve Written it regardless, despite, in spite of everyone and everything.
But, really, simply because you asked.
And I looked at you hard and cold.
the lip recovers my teeth.
my brow unfurrows.
infinitely written meets unwriteable.
effing idiots will never get it, will they?
Isn’t that wild?