Posted on

STREAKED CRITIQUE

 

third time in three minutes

I’ve thrown these plastic dollar store glasses

on the wood floor / can’t find the words need

to be words to be / there are no damn words

me \

odd ball rolling

where?

towards the spiky crust of convoluted clues

what then?

warm coldness as weapon gript

I avoid the one solution to change both our lives

rest here awhile

in this special brief bardo of words

my feelings’ poise shaky

what words to be will bemay

mean \ anger shoved there before birth

naked my tailored fit

 

copyright 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About a. edward watkins

With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.

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