#67 Clamour

As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.


I am at a loss for words

All my body knows is clamour

Slowness and unrelenting unease


There is way too much space

Between each entreating thought

It begins to defy the idea that pause

Invites coherence


This here is not a stream

Swinging off of the banks of mud

At the behest of its old escort gravity


It drips slower and louder than a loose tap

In a monumental cistern

The puddle is ancient

Still it reels


You have done it wrong

If you go gentle

You must not

Go at all


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