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Listen! Your education is complete! The trigger
sense of chemical life, the flicker of your eye
across the pages, resting nowhere but the edge -
these malformations swell and bloom in the dirt
of only just right now. The trucks of you arrive
by the minute, on the minute, according
to the plan of the world and, implicitly, yours.

Take your tear to market and make it pay. The only
ones who win are those who took it seriously.

Look out the window. The stars you see are nowhere
but your ruggedized strips, the strings you pulled
only tight enough to grip within the last few months.

Written by adswithoutproducts

February 2, 2011 at 1:19 pm

Posted in poem

the wasp

with one comment

Your life and mind like the pane
the wasp interrogates in panic.
Light out there, and your drive for light
but blocked by the inexplicable,
this strangely invisible lucidity.

Written by adswithoutproducts

October 18, 2010 at 10:21 am

Posted in poem

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