Snapshot of a Monger

April 13, 2019

as in desperation, he recycles traumas that aren’t his own—

which is to say nothing came of the long months’ promenade

of honest source experience he couldn’t see,

the e-zines didn’t care

for film scripts passed as sonnets anyway,

or of insights bought w/ coffee shop visits;

it’s your fingers’ soot he seeks, oh the value

he finds in other people’s crawling, from his lawnchair

on his day off, taking the time

to yell at his dog

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