Saturday, April 2, 2011

NaPoWriMo April 1, 2011


Don't trust me because I'm early-century.
Don't trust me because I'm staging a coup,
and I'm mostly concerned with aesthetic ones.
The coup comes to me in memories
like snapshots rehabilitated with time.
What I do is find the hungers and archetype them.
One is Meadow Envy and it has to do with that self-
conscious lyric. Another is named Inflationary
Cosmology and it's when everyone is compelled
to reference dead thinkers.

My mother was not a librarian, but a cater-waiter.
She wrote beautiful rubber checks. She taught
me how to braid a rope of my hair out of the abyss.
This will come in handy for our coup.
I think there are three of us so far, and I've brought cherries.
It won't be like war that way.
Instead it will be like collaboration with squabbling.

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