billyfivecrows

monk's wheel

It became a burden to her thoughts,
Everyone arrested in their own target.
No, I agree, I said. What's the
Point of articulation if summary
Is merely hit and draw. Draw
And hit, hit. Sometimes
We fight and I end up swinging
From a tire on a chain behind
The walled assumptions of a monastary.
Do you have to sit there studying
She asks. I'm not, I'm turning
Like a world, now I'm twisting
Sick like a memory of being
Sick. Which is nothing like
The real thing, I thought. I taught.


from 'undersamesky'

*

"The world's furious song flows through my costume"

-Ted Berrigan