If poetry is dead, then I'm dead and the people who gloriously visit my poetry blog are dead. We're all dead, my dear friends. And we're having lots of fun being dead...dancing our dead dance...reciting our dead poetry in the dead moonlight. We consume dead coffee and dead scotch. Dead art hangs on our walls as we listen to dead music....and "Dead" music. We smoke death. We eat dead cookies and dead cake. We talk about dead Jesus and dead Buddha. We share dead books by dead authors. And if my health sinks any lower, I'm gonna be alive sooner than I'd like to be. Damn, and here I thought I was gonna be dead my whole life.
A Poetics of Cold
6 years ago
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