I always feel a little weird when people refer to what I write as “poetry”. I don’t set out to write poems, not anymore. I just plug the probe into my brain, wait for some random amount of time, and then yank it back out again. I’m left with whatever was dumped during that time.
I guess people are fooled by the fact that I’ve started whacking my sentences up into short lines, because I got tired of sticking ellipses between everything.
It ranges from the amusing to the exasperating. Sometimes I’m just voicing my thoughts; but sometimes I’m trying to talk to people, no not just people, you, and you seem to think I’m creating Art and so remain hushed and appreciative. Or critical.
Or maybe it’s just the uncomfortable silence that follows the voicing of something thoroughly impolite. Difficult to tell in cyberspace.
Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? Am I making a fool of myself?