Every Day,
A Century

Poem of the Unpoem

I am reading a poem, or I am told it is a poem, but, anyway, I am reading it until. Until this, this thing. This, this, this, illegible, unintelligible, ineligible thing before me brought. Tribute?! Factcheck. Bullshit a bullshitter. Unconscionable. Stumblingblock: fallback: encyclopedia. No, indeed. As I had thought! Unconscionable. There is no such a place. Crumbling of lyric. Dissipation. Suspend belief? The truth reveals, and it is that there is no river called by that name no it’s another place another state and because of the mistake some huge chunk of life gone missing some huge something else revealed.

Alex Riddle


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