by Marisa Siegel
It stands in, quickly relevant and on-its-feet with an assembled spectatorship.
He refuses to participate. Worse, he willingly participates.
Oh, that’s just a poem. Don’t worry, you will know.
Its constitution, firmly established precedents. You will
Pretense was an old favorite, and it creeps into that half-reality of that nightmare.
Look at the urn. Believe only what you can see –
If you have to cling to science, that doesn’t constitute belief.
Why does that still matter.
Give a line assistance and it will breathe.
Look at the urn. You cannot validate your suffering.
Not to write at all. Assert that independence from the burdensome knowledge.
You cannot cling to this validation. The residuals approximate the variables.
I liked to watch the frightening way the wind kicked up the sand.
To push past precedent, passed pretense why that still –
Resounds for me, sound it out again because the lines are separated.