i wonder how long rogue framed poetry lasts on center street

well. it was guerilla poetry night. we poetry-warred all over this town.

before the battle commenced someone showed me a long poem by a wordsy guy who said, "why use one word when you can use six?" so i read and felt that i would only find the coherency through a thorough study but that, for now, i enjoyed sections of words put together. particularly the use of one word, "scumble."

which brought me back to my topic of thought from yesterday:


why from hence came this book called revelation?
am i looking for angels shaking out the earth like a bed sheet from the four corners?
if i met a man on the street with six wings i'm sure i'd fall over dead.

i read and thought and imagined and wondered
i hypothesized and cross referenced but mainly
slowly and not too deeply, just wondered.


then came chapter five verse eight:
"golden vials full of odours, which are the prayers of saints"
and then i knew that was all i needed to read that day.






Read Revelations 5 here.