Tumbled Red Pen

Unpublished pieces

Whisper what you don't want to hear.
Slave the words with
                    matchbook passion.
Be the beginning.
           Forget the ending.
Go forward in a tumbled red pen
                            sort of world.
Eradicate the obvious
accept the hinges just as they are.
Be for freedom, and so,
           you can be as whipped
                       as you want to be.
Monsters live in the closets.
Monsters live on the streets.
Detours and signs,
                 signs and detours.
Doors closed.
Windows broken.
We cannot be the flags
                        of restless defeat.
Only in hot water do boiling leeches
                                     make sense.
Jingle jangle envelopes and
                     slippery sliding stamps.
We run, and as we do,
                     our shoes bring us
                                back to
          groaning lisp of messages
                     we'll never send.

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