“Reed What I Rote” (1 Of 30) 04/01/2024

I reed what I rote

Make a marshland out of memory

Apply verbs to muddled thoughts

Cataloging tracks as their erased

I consider this taxidermy, an erasure & a filling.

A contrast & a juxtaposition

Reed what I rote

Air pulled underwater,

Breathe fresh perspective into the unconscious, this hurts at first

The muscles screaming in protest

My habits more comfortable than the idea of change.

The claiming difficult, I’ve become a CPA, accountability my newest habit

Pulled from the marshland muddled, draining all over the place.

Stain the seat covers, soak the floor, it’s a swampy thing, terra forming the landscape.

Vandermirian at it’s best.

Reed what I rote, this new world barely eligible barely alive. I’ll keep planting, taking stock, keep muddy my metaphors until I reap what I sow.

I mean reed what I rote

Photo Taken By Rondald James (Copyright Pending)*

Written 04/02/2024

Copyright Pending

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