found poem

 

 

                        SUGAR

                                    I’m at play-

                                    exploding bread loaf

                                    bedazzling a helicopter

                                    or

                                    entertaining a one-night stand

                                    with a creepy hyper

                                    realist painter.

                                                           

                        RUN

                                    like a cheap date, baby

                                    I often write

                                    moral fable or

                                    a tale from sleep

                                    I discover, again,

                                    writing, reading.

 

                        TIME

 

                                    I close my eyes

                                    to a great loss

                                    to draw arbitrary boundaries

                                    through collections of

                                    short stories

                                    struggling with language

                                    containing manuscripts for     

                                    a rock.