Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

don't point your canon of literature
and tell me it's not loaded,
I understand it's lethality the same way
I dig a killer sunset

I tremble when I look into Chaucer's eyes
feel so small when I consider the strata
the verbal expression and experience
the clusters of consonants

I shrink in the face of the Owl
and the Pussycat, and whomever else
the Owl was cavorting with
I think thunder, in every direction

to the east, to the west
the Northern Lights, the Southern Cross
i write a humble poem, toss it in the mix
between Caedmon's Hymn

and the number one best seller this week
in that space between old English
alliterative tongues and slamacides
around the corner, don't shred me dear critic

let me breathe, I'm OK being the pantaloon
of your fancy, you may call me heretic
if you like, even antichrist if it helps you
sleep a little better, but I am the spirit

of Rasputin, you cannot kill my voice
I am like a cat
have eighty one lives.......
nine squared

this is brilliant, saw.
forgive me for having too many words filling my yesterday preventing me from reading you till now