Burns Down All Literature

With commercial production night

tars windows...seared stars scrape

against them.

Something of the infernal imparts

a cold and clammy light.

...An ebb without flow keeps wine

in its glass, even as it passes lips.

Breath becomes a pipe organ--a

side-splitting laughter gathers the

wood of a fallen tree.

The mind cannot settle in genre...

so burns down all literature.

The w***e in "Notes from the

Underground" now foregoes

Dostoevsky's literary advice...as

his whoring eloquence without heart

feigned to bespeak her own.

Words in place of words underscore,

and if they should persist...they'de

be a band aid upon a malignant

tumor.

Konstantinos Mark

Reviews

[.]

~ your words are the "band aid upon my malignant tumor" of ignorance...
~ i learn and i heal each and every time i read you...