12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

April 16

another bruise
on the flank of a collective consciousness
the poets have all asked
the question
of this week:

what makes one person
want to blow the legs off another?

i read up and over all angles
of why
for what
and the day still wheels its clock
into night
leaves it all
a pile for the picking
along with the running shoes
and words of clinical violence
used so often they’ve become a jumble of sound
the meaning tired of waiting

from here, i can only crunch this news
sand between molars

bentlily says it best
that she wants to claw back
the landslide with the grit of her want

so i blurred my eyes to the photographs

what good does it do to see
the fragments now
the flowering open
of lives.


Tell me wotcha reckon

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