I threw words up in the air
So they would fall at random
I put some paper on the floor
So they would fall at random
I put some paper on the floor
For these words to land on.
Lying like a mixed up puzzle,
I pushed them with my fingers.
Until I made a verse from them
Which suits wild drunken singers.
A Jackson Pollock of the page.
Post modern verbal mistress
As Picasso haunts Greek labyrinths
With post modern art’s distresses.
Lying like a mixed up puzzle,
I pushed them with my fingers.
Until I made a verse from them
Which suits wild drunken singers.
A Jackson Pollock of the page.
Post modern verbal mistress
As Picasso haunts Greek labyrinths
With post modern art’s distresses.
How my heart sings 