read the poem many times

             wasn’t sure i liked it

a bit landscapey

             like walking west at sunset

not deletionist enough

too bound in boundedness

probably best viewed at random

kind of poem that doesn’t return calls

             but nevertheless keeps talking

             with its heavy mouth

             as if silence needs feeding

poem written but not coded

no anarchy postcard

trying to tune the light

             rather than lick the room

or trying to lick the room

             rather than tune the light

too many free hits

not enough chanting

or maybe i’m just reading out of my depth?

maybe i fail to see its wild seed

             or things i don’t want to see

             looking in at me

maybe this poem’s

             the very beginning of beginning?

wait here

             i’ve gone to get help