you're reading...
Spaghetti knots

canine circle

i used to think

poetry was a suicide

where the author

always reached

the end of a line

 

but now i think

it a rope

connecting all to all

where there is no end

just movement across

in a circle

a knot

sometimes around a neck

but often times

around a belt

to keep one’s pants up

for there are things to do

and poems to tie together

*

in every poet’s life

there is a poem called

the poem

that is not good enough

that reads sloppily

that uses the word sloppily sloppily

and that is hardly the poem

just a poem

a continuation of a thought

and a pause and a breath

that is often too filled with spit

and always a culmination of a life

that doesn’t read like poetry

*

life is

a cycle of 30 days

of eating and sleeping

that requires hope in

the 31st day

to make movement towards

the first thirty

*

the dogs sing

their names in a language

i don’t know

and that they forget

angry and sad

snarling at the moon

for will there ever be night

full night

total night

where they can run into

hide

and find their tongue

without the embarrassment of view

and the hope of figuring out

what they are thinking

while chasing their own tail

and trying to maybe

i don’t know

feel complete

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)

Discussion

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: