Semi-colons

That savagely indifferent nap – as void of caring what was going on

beyond you as a Jersey dairy cow would be to earthquakes in Nepal;

the sexual shenanigans you planned

and only partly carried out;

the range of soft involuntary sound you found

while talking to a friend in pain;

the gain of drawing, framing, labeling, enabling your “art”

you barely managed to sustain – snarling at it like a rabid dog;

that yet-another-piece-of-pepperoni-sausage-pizza

you just slaughtered like a hog;

how you watered thought with terror and hilarity all day – killing,

marrying, ignoring and imploring all the lovely awful static in the way;

the semi-colons linking almost everything.

You’re damned if you won’t sing.









.