A Lesson in Postmodern Printing Exercises

So much silence
“If you need anything”
He stands in the doorway
Already half gone
“What will I need”
Watch the secondhand
So loud as it makes it’s way around
Cars stream steady past on 172nd
Coffee cooling on the coffee table
Too much sugar
Printing precisely this stupid poetry
I found an old friends letter
Something sent from New York City
Written by hand
Heard she was back in town for a time
Heard she’s published

The birds visit
Bringing high pitched chirps
Orange legs and black bodies
I listen and remember

This is the only way to speak to silence
And my head pounds
And you,
You call me your ‘old lady’
As though you have that right
And the ring sits
Still too big to fit
And I think it’s time for some postmodern cleaning
Rewrite all of my things
Out of this apartment
Out of this place
Into the spring that feels of fall
A phoenix at the end
Never existing but more than myth


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