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Spaghetti knots

three feet under means nothing to me, a canadian

i am at the bar

where jack kerouac was supposed to

frequent

trying to keep the dead man alive

but i am beat

a bit constipated with no

toilet paper to wipe away the myth

of what i ate on the road

and it is raining outside

leaving me

dry and bamboozled

against the flowing around

 

each drop is supposed to be some reflection of rapture

yet it squirts on the poor and rich alike

who sit slow like snails

waiting

knowing that there’s a world

and there’s the world

and we all slurp towards one or the other

against the dampness around

 

our heads are snail eyes

held above our shells

our goop are snail trails

gripping to the dirty

in quick submission

while the rain labyrinths

half of it monstrous in its bullheaded determination

to erase this building this writing this land

to reconnect the waters

that forget that even then

there are divides

that will assault a tune of fresh battles

the other half a small soft

pat of congratulation on a recent graduate

a helpful nod to a farmer with questions of when

a sapphic pool that reflects an entire city in calmness

the trying taxis the greasy light of cigarettes the drunks

sitting atop of a hill where the sun greets them red-eyed

wanting another drink

though the clouds block the alcoholic spinning around

in nothingness

and the snail keeps moving straight

against the intricacy around

 

how high is the bar

have i done it

i hear that even the dead still drown

jack shit jack shit

the water is storming in

i am drunk

i am alone

the vomit

departs away from me

and flat like a suicide from the heavens

there is little

against me that is round

 

still

the snail

will show of a shell

after the sludge stream dries

and the eyes recede through the poking of air

a shell only remains

a masterpiece of it

a repetition repeating work and determination

to pedal revolution there

always there

into the tomorrow

where i will wake

plucking thorns of sunlight

from my yawns

and think only

it rained

 

i must now cycle

avoiding the puddles

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About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.

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