Retaliate against my own galleys’ plate.
Speak my own street, isolate in sleets.
My reach, only to open minds, I’m resigned
To olden finds. Bored. Images, more.. Please
Plea to elements. Blood clots,
more sized than elephants.
a Cabernet couch. Slouch,
Getting off phone. Want to
Be seen with pen, notebook.
Spoiling Self with blizzarding
Sentences. Finding more mice
In word gutters. New discoveries,
Where? Prolonging pint till I’m
Inclined. Tornado planning, favorite
Appetizer. Extended menu.
Does she serve poetry? See her
at adjacent table.
Missiles. Bound for marginalia..
IPA telling me to cook faster.
I always write in this same spot, at
this restaurant when waiting for
takeout. Not riveting detail, but it’s
Truthful. I’m true. At least now.
Hoping for more language on
Plate. New dish, me: the scribbling fish.
And which wine am I 2night opening?
Bordeaux. Or no. Another throw.
Walking away, looking at what me blinds.
Too much vintage to say, hooking book to