The room around me
i
have stared at this screen
for long enough
the beer cans
are loitering on the corners
of the coffee table
the zig-zags have been
torn from the package
too many pocket transfers
the ash trays are falling apart
butts jut and topple out
my fingers extinguish another seven minutes
notebooks hold scribbled needs of one time
years of study
compressed by gravity, stained yellow
the many sandwich bags
once filled with transmogrified money
strewn about the shelves and carpet
x-rays of nothing
art from a friend
a calendar with the cartoon from april
it is august
'return to eden' by sandra bierman
framed in plastic
for four dollars at a garage sale
held up by tacks and the corner of a book
the books slant with the house:
left or south
kafka, thompson, palahniuk, adams,
vonnegut...
other people's work
are my only sense of pride
the empty desk and squeaker chair
the type writer in its case
sketches and 'the graduate'
extension cords and chargers
bind it to the floor
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poem by Michael P Campbell
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