If It Seems I Do Nothing
for
Tracy Miller
On the verge of a
breakthrough/ breakdown
my so-called creative
core has pores
soft spots, shower clogs
up, it all gets blended
with roommate's lost
skin.
When you wake with a bite
you're supposed to accept
that a bug
was in your bed while you
slept
carting new ideas and
itchy sores.
Clipped thoughts fly in
and out of sight
as I shoot toenails
across the room and
envy her use of
in-front-of-and-behind.
I must find a way to squirt words
through a cake decorator
tip. Paint big
and little sushi.
Paint pecan pie on a paper doily.
1 comment:
aw, I miss you, Denise. Thank you for spending time with sushi paintings. Let's get beer soon, please?
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