Stay, Please, Reader.

When I get out of habitual writing, the writing comes hard. In what context do I place things? In which words do I encapsulate things? How can I let free? How can I be a little more than two-dimensional? Why would I write at all?

It’s inherently selfish, isn’t it? Though all art may be art, this, compared to the intricacy of the refined society-changers, is inconsequential but to calm my mind. But, nonetheless, I ask you to read and I tell you to read and I keep you here in this blog on this page I still don’t know how to format consistently.

Stay, please, Reader.
Let me paint landscapes for your eyes to dance on, please.
Call me Ishmael.
Call me Jonah.
Call me whatever you want.
No! You will call me Genius tonight.
You must.
And you must read slowly, slowly.
Slowly, read these words to yourself
Like a foreign that ear can only hear when
Slowly unwoven, words are mechanical parts
Of mechanical worksheets
And on this week’s list of verbs.
You must read the words fast!
Perhaps you’ll lapse and relapse.
Skim and trim the extra
You don’t think you’re missing.
But redouble and redouble and dance.
Consequence is imagined. So jump
up and go again and again.
And read
every line.
Go ahead and forget all the things in your head;
Go ahead and forget all the things in your head!
Go ahead and forget all the things in your head.
Wait!
The repetition sits, begs pardon; Sits, begs pardon.
I told you! Forget
Read words, each one and don’t look at your phone.
Each one! Don’t look at your phone.
Let me speak in an old microphone,
Unwieldy, strings attached,
Buzzing, reverberating.
Listen to me! Go back! Hear me
Over the loudspeaker.
Listen, please.
Take note.
Stay, please, Reader.
Let me paint landscapes for your eyes to dance on, please.
Call me, Ishmael.
Call me, Gatsby.
Call me, whatever you want.
You will call me here tonight.
You must
Listen.