By kevin urenda
Date: 18 June 2000
on the carpet
unhappily on my knees
again
(as usual)
I scrub at the spots on the carpet
as if cleaning them would
purify us again
(or at least make us presentable)
so that we would not walk into
the same room in
asynchronous time
syncopated rhythms do not
play harmonious music
I am become the carpet
in a state of flux
(being cleansed)
I am underfoot
beaten down by feet
dancing out of time
to hearts out of tune
06.15.00
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