Having recently realized
how woefully limited
I am in poetic form,
with my crowded words and lines,
I decided to do one of those spacey poems,
With lots of
Sounding less like greens and peas with a lemon squeeze,
more like five dry beans in an empty pail,
and addressed to the brief little spider who finds himself
Quite suddenly dead
I’m sorry, but I’m as uncomfortable with you as I am
With empty space between my lines.
I want to squash both flat and together
in neat little stanzas smeared
into the carpet.