Midterm
We
all need places to go; real or not
Contentment
in our containment
But
that’s cool too
When
the room has a view
For
a great many
And
nothing I can do
The
dogs are in again
And
we are pissing on the fires
Begging the Question
The
mind outside the mind
Outside
the outside, sideways and slippery
Poetic
logic – chance
Linear,
but many and steadily unsure
The
Language of Abjection
Laughing
loud but longing
All
the while aware and weary
Leary
but driven – and so then bold
Egg
Human
progress is deconstructionism
Our
growth is painted death
The
lumberyard, the tannery
Our
industrial birth
Ancestral
Gods
of power
Holding
mean sticks or holding flowers
Monkeys
with car keys
Chance
of rain
Cocaine
drain
Second
hand, slightly bland
Sterilized
and filtered through
Western
civilization
And
in triumph of the rational mind
The
probabilities do not add up
They
multiply
Oversexed ne'er–do–well; starving artist type with erratic sleep patterns and a penchant for travel and aimless wandering. A Pushcart Prize nominee; William has contributed to journals and magazines around the world. His favorite color is green, he thinks sushi is great, and he has done his part for Post-It art.
