V

I can't really type without trying to find
Phoenetic coherence in single letters
From a to l and up and over and across and back again
I have to think in clear words, in order not to confusing myself with the fact that if I randomly hit one of these keys it'll start something
And then my mouth will get to work on crapping out the beginnings of poetry


VI

Check the Sopranos boxes stacked
And next to it is Dante
Dante bears a holy cross
And sits on top
Of Game Informer

My mouse crawls around on top of Nixon and Presley
I think the Soprano box misses its first half
And silently wonder what that could mean
Part one before the mother died (she died)
Two could be the Ralphie years up to Whitecaps
And three is everything after that
The slow crawl to the sudden stop


VII

No fowl rude burping allowed
I did burp
I'll have you know
It pleases me nothing to do so
Anything other than underneath
My breath


VIII

The boards are in another home
And now the carpet where I roam conceals only what makes it damp
And what to do about the rose
I'll be my own
And when my petals all have flown
I will wave my stem

I will probably wonder about apologizing
I don't know
What do I have to hide?