Fred Aiken Writing

I’ve yet to attain any sort of luck,

but I’ll keep trying to write on walls until something sticks,

or I get swallowed by the wrong creature

lurking from a different dimension

as I burn through books and poems written about someone else

for reasons I couldn’t comprehend

a wondrous, beautiful, enticing, lovely grouping of modest noises

crackling through the sea as palindromes carry backward ideas

from one synapse to the next on the suspicion that thoughts are on the go

and static in the blink of several eyes contemplating the same thought

all throughout and within, now let’s begin…