As/Is







4.02.2012



Head butt

or the day I finally

take a pile of papers off the hook

and lay them out on cold mental table

in the so-called

"cafetorium"

and right only on the backs

of them what I'd really like to do

instead of contemplating the same endless

suicidal thots I process every time I choose

between my day job and my real job

managing a life that doesn't want

a day job

Oh, what a life, eh?  Oh, what a life, alright!

Exclamation points because they're popular now

in somebody else's writing (poetry, somebody

else's, naturally), although they point to

Start another sentence delete that type Life

Sentence however many letter spaces from "To begin again"

which was in another life, actually, so

what

does this sound like, as if that matters

it doesn't

and it does, NO

what joy

wherever "you"/? end it

it ends and then

you get busted (up)

for "closure," ain't it a crime, ain't

that a shame, ain't you misbehavin,

ain't a way to keep going on

and on (Yes, I already did that -- in a poem in Behave that Grenier liked,

kinda sorta maybe, anyhow)

for an hour or for a couple more minutes

Well, to be honest with ya,

whoever I am,

this whole thing, the whole stuff,

about "writing poetry," it's completely mindless,

really

it is, and there must be a way

to get out of it

without any serious repercussions or concussions (why don't you put that on the next line)

too late now

to go home

and have dinner

not really, fuck this stuff.