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April 19, 2018

forest, glade, smothers brothers

silk, titties, coleslaw

marinade, truth, probation

anon, enough, locutionary act

flint, fist, marshmallow

The words come easily enough
to those of a certain age.
Born of the interregnum,
Chaucer to Chappaquiddick.
(the movie– I mean now)

But sometimes a sense isn’t in the sound,
the sound sounds not,
and nothing holy loves you.
Spatters, no Pollock.

No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail.
— As Beckett would have written
Had he known his words
would ever dare
to inspire.

From → Uncategorized

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