2nd Prose Poem conference
Something I’m not writing anymore
the disintegration of
the diary
on purpose
the relaxed alignment
of destructive tendencies
and all those names
those names for things
far-reaching Adams
wrestle in the garden
double Adams
double Garden
and there is no Eve
on daylight savings time
something made of ill repute
that catches up with you
The positions, the choreography of your gestures does not relate to the metrical feet, and though it should. There are metrical feet hiding in the prose, wearing veils. There are hard hearts, hard- hearted orb that rules the night. I am lost. Contemporary. The past. You can ask, you can ask to attach, you can task to attach your trash. There is nothing else to say.
In the call and response, I am leaning toward prose. I think it would be a joke.
There are no opportunities for line breaks in prose
or is there