slinging poetry to the punks

going to go
sell books at
another concert
and i can’t stop
wondering how
i got lucky
enough to get
asked to peddle
poetry to punks
when a few years
back i was just
one of those
punks myself

these casual
between my two
favorite arts
both of which
where i feel like
a voyeur creeping
waiting for
someone to notice
and have me
forcibly removed
leave me reeling
yet i stagger
punchdrunk and
concussed with
a stupid grin
in a haze of

i just document
the absurdity
of the universe
never stopping
to contemplate
my place in it
but every now and then
it all seems so
that i can’t help
but laugh at it all
the sheer wonder
in the accidental
prismatic brilliance
as seen through
the soulshatter
of pure madness


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