New location for
poetic censorship is discovered
days after Facebook nudes
are similarly desecrated…
Artists MUST be mad!
I think of Sour Girl Shawn
as I pull on Stone Temple Pilots
and walk to the train
on my journey to Brooklyn.
I bring tracks from CD #3
and Mood Swings sing me to poetry
between 168th & 145th.
I can’t remember
attraction to Boy in Orange;
attraction died ages ago
without my notice…
Still nice to see him if I’m ever so lucky.
Scribbler illustrates the back of my mind
as I tunnel through Manhattan
to deal with angry humiliating disappointment
which I refuse to surrender to
despite the temptation to ralph
on the sidewalks of NYC.
Written by Jason Wright
March 19, 2018