Prose Poem

Wikipedia Poem, No. 893

The $18 Lady Passes The Asp or Perhaps You Run, Joseph M. Gerace, 2019

Your blood you’re acting Eng-lich you are valuable how you save but either you thought actual is everything long to you, you are adamant to love—oh, trope!—around relation time. Milosz says no system works. If you want your brown what’s the opposite? You canonize the senators quarries you’re large and bald and rich as a gold mine here you made this for the angelheaded neonblood ogre rests now in homes and kitchens it would just be better that way!

A Raspy, Screeching Hiss.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 814

w814

A piece the size of me. We float downstream’s surge. Suddenly to steep, rocky shore and up under the boat down the stream’s surface began. The hotel has provided a nice razor set. I see how far down a submarine. The pain: the trip was small, not powerful, contained in more capsizing. The weather side of me. We float felt unsure recollection, sand yawed, before capsizing. The stream at the purpose of me. Inexplicably the window, the stream’s surge. Suddenly my home barbwire. My hairline. It pitches, reaching out for plant stalk to tolerate the stream. The water. Dazed. Suddenly normalized.