I am all the beatnik poets back today,
Bound within the working or insane,
I shared the fucking up they did my way
And I can process principles of pain.

No broken string of rhythm could express
In better patterned agony of time
Than strictly metered matters of duress,
Emphasizing agony in rhyme.





(This poem was originally published in Screech Owl sometime in Winter 2015. The publication stopped publishing in July 2015.)


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