Poetic Purposes

What are we doing here, you and I?
Are we making beauty (don't use that word!) and being seen?
Are we diving deep into the vulnerable caverns
and hoping that no one will breathe out
to cause just such a cave-in
that we've seen so many times?

Is this play?
Is this work?
What does it look like?
How many metaphors 
can the average person

I hope you have a good toilet.
Because it's all of the around.
Sneezes, leaves, treetips in the blue-purple afterglow.
You'll see it all.

The button-nosed beast who ate the village rooster and 
then stole a bottle of whiskey
and used it for a pillow.

There will be line snakes,
enjammy jams (meant for you
to taste), spiked punches 
into the shadows 
that might prefer to hide.

Serious business, as you already know.
So what am I doing, tell you again?
Isn't it nice to see what you believe
written down in words that
came from elsewhere?

That's one of the things it's for:
a heads-down display
for all the thoughts
you vaguely know you feel.

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