Tom Beckett
It’s About What’s Next
It’s about
What’s next
These last
Days of
Whatever is
Right now.
What We Say When
What we
Say when
Perfectionism becomes
A meat-
Eating flower.
Ask Yourself What
Ask your
Self what
Are your
Essential terrors
And what
Have they
Done for
You lately.
Yes This Is Intentional
Yes this
Is intentional
(A procedure
Of feeling).
What You Mean Is
What you
Mean is
We are
Not aroused.
The Nature of Reality
The nature
Of reality
Both private
And public
Is unnatural
For sure.
The Darkness Surrounds Me
The darkness
Surrounds me.
It’s not
About us.
It Is What It
It is
What it
Has to
Be in
The moment
Of its
Realization of
Irresistible resolve.
How Can It Be
How can
It be
The forbidden
Finds us
Wanting so
Many things
In so
Many ways.
We Might As Well
We might
As well
Finish each
Other’s sentences.
If All Goes Well
If all
Goes well
It’s not
An accident.
To Live As Though
To live
As though
Whatever comes
To mind
Is poetry
Until one’s
Mind changes
Its tune.
Doing Things With Words
Doing things
With words
Over and
Over again
One feels
A void
Opening up.
What I Am Not
What I
Am not
Depends upon
The groove.
Before You Know It
Before you
Know it
Something is
Another thing.
A Metaphor Walks Into
A metaphor
Walks into
A barcode.
The Mime Is Trying
The mime
Is trying
To say
Punctuation marks
Are unnecessary.
I Can’t Get Out
I can’t
Get out
Of this
Thought pattern
This template
Of desire.
Is This Too Tight
Is this
Too tight.
Does This Make One
Does this
Make one
Appear flat
Dispersed to
Its edges.
Tom Beckett lives and writes in Kent, Ohio. previous page     contents     next page
2 Comments:
Right on the edge of silence. Wonderful poems.
-Patrick Sweeney
We seem to be in this together. Your words reflected over here in the last late lost poems i am writing. Good will brother.
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