wayward, i

have to tell you
i have the same
repeating thought
crimes ::

love of closeness
when i am so remote,
love of loose
unfettered movements,

and a gratuitous need for
mirrors set up in
tripod fashion.
careless i am

yet monitored i am
by an invisible ministry
i don’t understand,
— keeping me
from my instinctive self


55 for Real Toads


20 thoughts on “wayward, i

  1. Goodness me! This is excellent, Angie. You have turned Newspeak on its head and delivered a very thought-provoking poem in 55 words.

  2. Oh stop. Watch angie pull another rabbit out of her hat. But, unlike Bullwinkle, your tricks always work. The “ministry I don’t understand” is pure gold. It makes me wonder whether you mean a religious ministry or some grim eastern bloc type government ministry; if so, you’re wandering down one of my favorite poetic streets. In any case, no one else writes like you. A poem could drop from the sky and I’d know by the style and skill that it was yours.

  3. ps–I gush because, in my experience, really good poets rarely believe that they are really good, or only believe it sporadically, and so it bears telling again and again. It’s the shit poets who are dead solid convinced that they’re fantastic geniuses.

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