Author Information
As Simple as it Gets
Crafting lines
from mammoth,
established
thoughts,
is a garden rushed
out of several pre-planted
flowerpots.
Awkward.
Position-able
in only a couple
of ways,
and probably a close enough clone
of a random rose field, anyway.
I beg for the seed.
For the deeper we deconstruct
an intersection,
the more alternate paths
are paved
upon re-piecing.
I beg this for poetry.
Where each stanza
is a reinventing
of the wheel
to match the acute
and precise
feel
for which its reaching.
From the ground up,
Build the sound up
from a single
moan.
And reshape harmonies
from jingles.
How it will enthrall us
with the pinpoint
tactics
that crafted man
from dust.
Cause I know
God didn't build this body
from leftover tree-trunk,
some sticks,
and sap.
So know,
when you give me an iceblock,
I won't shove it where it fits.
But shatter it
to reform the shards
as I see limitlessly fit.
