I wanted to bend each word,
As blue waves bend in refraction—
yielding an entire sea of bent over cerulean wavelengths,
That is how I so longed to manipulate the subject into matter.
Wanted to carve purpose into pretension,
Wane profundity into pretty
like christ-mass but Christ-less
like all frosting but no cake
like run-ons running on and on
(and where is the point?)
A river running nowhere
So alluring albeit insubstantial.
I wanted to bennnd
each wooooo rrrrd;
worried when the army of predicate
wielded its weapon of mass conception
in demand of truth.
about: purpose over poetry
