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Sentences returned

By John W. King

 (In our series Pretentious Poems, here's another one:)

Sentences returned,
Childhood abandoned.

I cannot go on.

His chin lines are perfect.
He's abysmal.
He's a dick.


He's pivoting on me all the time.
He's sacrosant in a childish way.
He's pleni...
Plenipotential or what.

He's unfair.

This is not a good poem.

This is scatterbrained as of yesterday.
We love you.

The dream of selfish coherence,
Estimated, drowned, dreamed, delusional,
Up to a point.

Nowhere. Formal.
Yes, of course.
I cannot go on.

Here he is, after a long night's wakefulness,
And he's smashed,
And sweet,
And nothing counts.

Nothing whatsoever.

And he's breathing heavily,
Next to me,

And there's no end to it,
Nothing to it,
Or a lot,
And our life.

We'll wake up together,
And if I'm lucky,
He'll kiss me eventually,

John W. King teaches forensics and negotiation at San Francisco State University. He's infamous.


  1. Well done, John. Maybe you'd like my work on Lustspiel as well -- Dangeris F.A.G.


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