I’ll get be back wit more posts about the I Magnin commission soon, but I have had some poem ideas circulating in my head. I feel like no time better than the present to take action.
It’s this unrest,
Like the jackals nipping at your heels,
When all they want, short of tearing you from limb from limb from limb
Is a chance to turn you into one of them.
It’s this feeling of panic
In the morning with a bottle of seltzer water,
(I know I am killing the ocean, killing myself)
I ask for some grace,
And the Jackals find a steady pace.
It’s this walk to the door,
I think I’ll pile on another to do,
On a list of undones.
But I keep trying.
-Byron Slomotion IV