It's not like I promised you a poem part II, or promises must be kept like pictures-in-a-box

I gave you the poem I promised, and now we release it into the world for those who find it in the blahg-box of this space!


[A picture-poem in a poem]

There he sat, one cool cat
by the window, while the nighttime

walls were cut up by ribs of light.
I tried to put him on a piece of
paper, but the spirals stuck my

fingers and I was pipped to it.
The music was torn from my
ears, ripped to pieces on the coffee

table I’d sanded with my own two hands.
So I made a shelf of broken things and
drank to it three times, and every glass that

evaded my skin I decided to immortalize.
I ran again to the pen but once again
there was no ink to fill the film of note-

pad and I could not even start to begin.
The poem was so elusive and I found a
piece in a ceramic cup and another glued

to the tips of the keyboard’s keys before me.
I even went to a village of surprises like
little mushrooms in a cluster to muster

the words for my constant lucid daydream.
I went running back to the first place I’d seen,
skeddadling across the kitchen as if I weren’t

always departing from my original wishing.
I could not bear to care any more after
this thorn in my thumb and I tried to think it into

a movie on my shelf where I could watch it later.
In the end my sore thumb was soothed but
only after the cold steel of a camera button cooled me
and I found that there I’d put all that I was seeking.

love,
eduardo and friends