THE COLLECTED LETTERS (A)
loads of words are
in a water treatment screen.
there is no reason for me to say my thoughts,
it’s simply what happens when
the audio jack gets plugged in.
my important additional eye
is tired of its files falling apart in
poorly written editing software.
the eye is trying to build
another mouth to say what it sees.
nothing makes me more
than being able to describe
the actual color, taste, smell,
will this mouth also be able to eat?
is this mouth an alternate venue
for sexual fit if anyone can find it?
hold that thought underwater
until the bubbles stop.
all of the perpetrators
of historic scale violence
are roughly the same size
as you are, they just want it more
than you want everyone to survive.
ancient smells are overtaking
nothing makes me
like getting added to the
lightload in the balance
by inescapable powers.
a struggle is going on.
winners never end it,
so lets stay focused on ending it.