Maybe I'm not doing this whole thing right
like maybe this is all very wrong
and the fleas are supposed to lie flat and just let me
but then they thrash their tiny many legs
Maybe I'm not doing this right at all
and the list I made of expenses won't matter by month's end
or I really misunderstood the whole line-break thing
but she's pawing at the drawer again
trying to get into my slippery under things
with her dirty, dirty paws I just saw in the cat box
and we're both watching the flies
and we're both reminded of the fleas
and she itches and I wonder if they fleas grew wings
6 comments:
I love this,
Love.
me three. i think it's an amazing poem. really smart. lyrical. and not at all arousing like your titty poems.
O'Hara-esque, dude.
but, like, your own thing, obviously.
sort of O'Hara but with a touch of a more *interior* Bukowski (e.g: "the broken shoelace"). Excellent.yeah, you're no Lydia Davis. There's no litter boxes in Lydia Davis' stuff.
What is this "broken shoelace" business? I'm lost. I googled it and you know what came up? Karaoke poetry. Good LORD. Karaoke poetry. Really though, I don't know what...I don't...I'm confused.
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