i can never tell you how displeased readers
are by that position the singular
moment when nothing makes any sense
to them at all but only to a few brilliant pebbles
that soar across the night canvas unknown
to
the dullards of academia
it is the ONLY reason
i write; to express
self to those very few
who HEAR ME.
the rest are noise and there is no
time
for wasting one's artistry on rigid brains
and stiff
necked human-geese.
Then again, my imagination never demands
an audience of understanding but more
of an emotional receptivity.
A slumbering shadowy cloud-vignette
seeping from
a tormented mind onto
freshly sliced paper cuts.
This is the
color red screaming in a dying ink stroke.
:: 07-21-2017 ::