There are no more nowheres so stop looking,
keep exploring against bubbles in time with the rhythm love
yourself and die happy. Street signs tell you
which way to go and they are all a different color fuck
whoever is in front of you and shit out
of your mouth so you can finally breathe
tightly to your loved one and loved ones and always remember their birthdays.
There are no such things as a Shallow Good.
Force yourself into the no more nowheres.
Know where to go when you get into a car crash.
Find a lucky lady, feed her lots of honey cherries.
There are no such things as a Shallow Good.
Heed to lead, young man.
This is what you need to do.
(a small attempt at language poetry, as inspired by Charles Bernstein)
YOU ARE READING
Dead Orchestras
PoetryA random assortment of poems with no particular running theme or plot. This will serve as the hub for most of my stand-alone poetry.
