shards & the ampersand
smashing my warm poem with an ampersand
sending shards flying all over the place
thoughts once hard-ordered now disorder
& after all the time it took in no time broken
upping the entropy of the whole bloody genre
like
an iridescence of butterfly wings settling glitch
on an oriental tray of doubtful provenance
or rattling across a frozen lake to thaw one day
& mix the metaphors on an evolutionary shore
waned in mores & more besides what was
never intended to recombine in nude profundity
like
you cannot mean what was meant by all that is
settled here and anthologised in aspic-stained tomes
ringing in the changes ringed in pencil edited
ad infinitum they say over and over edit the shards
slew them here & let me (they say) sort it for you
i know the meaning (they say) sort of (they say)
sort of a cut finger on a bloody shard the genre
exsanguinates into a glass of chardonnay
like
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