expositions, preminitions
dry-erasers falling from the sky.
but I've got a chalkboard for a
raincoat and a half dozen reasons
to change my expression.
expositions, dry expressions,
clay cast methods i formed long
ago.
long before my epileptic discourse
unraveled and convulsed beautifully
off of my tongue.
sitting in the corner shaking violently
at the wrist. slumping at a computer
writing poetry with a pocket full of
felt tipped markers.
watching the clock turn slowly
at night shift in a breakroom.
stealing away to heaven in a fit
under the hum of some ballis
lights.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem