frivolous confabs and librettos

send it with technicolor sauce
by Matt Freire

i didn't write anything for awhile
and i didn't like it
but don't have writers block i have execution block
i have a desire to write about so much
but i can’t articulate and adjust my firing squad
to get a kill
because the rounds double feed
and jam my starved chamber

con-
struct a reality
and commit it to memory
commit to the uncertainties of language
suspect the increasingly clear
is why i keep my windows dirty

in hot pursuing
bullets tease the opposition's intuition
the self-
imposed fetish of objectivity
to write
words
frivolous confabs and librettos
wish to make their plight known
and how i construct
it depends upon isolated places
and the opposite of lethargy
and a magazine of insomnia
i pull from my plate carrier

so
first of all
describe in
detail the various actions taking place
capable of disturbing the assumed
shall it inquire into
or onto
or has it
or should it
with an almost endless humanity
let us
then suppose
in the very process of laying bare
by ourselves
no limits can be assigned to the iterations of our minds
or alteration of our breath
or whatever you please to call them

send it
like the buildings on fire and your cup of coffee is evaporating too quickly
leaving you without your security rush

send it
like winos who go to grocery stores and steal grapes
that the produce man feels sorry for and lets happen

send it
like it’s been vocalized to the deaf and blind
while you push to the front of rock concerts

the digressive maundering perceived
is a consummate
pro-
portion swallow
problems involved
resolve
the finished
the working on
the approaching
wither like a time-lapse film of conception to submersion
pausing superficial at developmental millstones
because there could be a lot to cover