I will not survive the end of this poem

Stop writing as if you'll survive,
be discovered, and understood.

Don't pretend you have time
to not mean every word.

Mean it. Every word.
Or else make spreadsheets.

Precious, clever lines
won’t sound better later,

or accrue in value, or
change to gold from lead.

Write like the dead.
Syllable your last beat.

You will not make it
to the end of the page.

You're already gone.
What do you say, for your self?
cement mixer me
clitta-clat king of the bucket
 

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Thursday, November 23, 2017

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fine art prints
writing by Greg Correll