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
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
As to your poem, I have these things to say - 1. I like monks. 2. Communication is very difficult. and 3. What's "undersamesky"?
T