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Digital found poem

Digital found poem is a random poetry generator that randomly combines thousands of pieces of language into an infinite variety of five-stanza poems you can use as an aid to create poems of your own.

Unlike most other online poem generators, which avoid all the hard work of seeding the app by simply grabbing the language, unfiltered, from existing web sources, the words/phrases/clauses in digital found poem are added, one by one, by hand. It’s this herculean task of seeding the program with carefully chosen language and then programmatically controlling the flow of that language that makes these randomly generated e-poems not always grammatical–not always logical–but almost always readable and perhaps even enjoyable. To see some examples of poems generated by digital found poem, see Twenty-five examples of digital found poems. To see how the text of digital foundpoem is generated, see How text of digital found poem is generated.

Digital found poem is an extremely simple, single-file text editor (think Windows Notepad) that won’t add cookies, mess with your registry, or collect any personal information. If you download it and it’s not to your liking, you can delete it in one second with a single click.

To see what the user-interface of digital found poem looks like, what the generated poems look like, and the editing capabilities of digital found poem, watch this 4-minute video. If the text in the video goes by faster than you can read it, just click the pause button in the video.

Important: To run digital found poem, your computer must be able to run Windows. Digital found poem doesn’t work on cell phones. And it works on Mac and other operating system devices only if they can also run Windows.

For download info, see the Download digital found poem section later on this page.

Using digital found poem in the classroom

Note: Although digital found poem doesn’t contain “four-letter” words, it’s intended for a mature audience. Its dark and adult themes make it inappropriate for those too young for all that misery.

If you’re a poetry teacher and are looking for a way to spice up your poetry writing class or workshop, digital found poem may be of help. Let students play with digital found poem, shaping and molding words and lines that they see poetic potential in and discarding the rest. (Think cut ups, erasure poems, blackout/redacted poems, found poems, and so on.)* For a beginning poet, a few minutes of tinkering with text provided may be a more enjoyable and productive way to start each writing day than to have to stare at that proverbial blank page and hope that, somehow, the words will come.

* For an interesting take on the value of cut ups, erasures, etc, see the @heteroglossia blog entry for February 17, 2019, which (in part) says:

Cut up, erasure, projectivist, free verse — many of these forms and schools, by taking verse, lines, conceits from past works, force us to see the intertextual nature that constitutes all writing. When, say, one “cuts,” rearranges, or erases a poem to bring to light another, possible poem, one illuminates the infinite possibility of language, the infinity of language. The poem lying in wait behind (or above, or to the left or right of) the poem.

Digital found poem is essentially just a gigantic “cut up.” But instead of cutting up a single existing work, it cuts up a huge chunk of the dictionary and of the spoken/written English language. It then rearranges the “cut up” pieces programmatically into an infinite variety of never-before-seen stanzaic text that students (or anyone else) can peruse to find/fashion new poems that may be “lying in wait behind (or above, or to the left or right of” the digitally generated text. And what they find or fashion, they may, of course, keep and call their own.

Download digital found poem

To see digital found poem in action, download it by clicking the link below:

download digital foundpoem

Last updated December 2, 2022 (zipped size: 924 KB. Unzipped size: 3.66 MB.)

Download Note 1: When you try to download digital found poem, your browser may give you a message that says that the file may be dangerous and asks if you want to scan it. For example, on Google Chrome, you may see the following message:

You can click Send to have Google scan the file, or you can click the arrow next to Send and then select one of the following: ScanDiscardOpen nowShow in folder, or Cancel.

Download Note 2: When you run digital foundpoem for the first time, you may get a message that says:

Microsoft Defender SmartScreen prevented an unrecognized app from starting.
Running this app might put your PC at risk.
More info

Click More Info and then click Run anyway.

Digital found poem has been downloaded by thousands of people for many years with no reported problems. So I’m fairly certain you won’t experience any nasty consequences by downloading this app.

Note: I update digital found poem at least once a month, usually on the 1st. Each update adds hundreds of new pieces of language, removes piece of languages that aren’t working very well, and corrects textual errors. So if you use digital found poem regularly, don’t forget to update it every few months or so, so you get the full benefit of what digital found poem has to offer.

Contact me

If you have a question or suggestion about digital found poem, please feel free to email me at

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How text of digital found poem is generated

Digital found poem has grown into a very large random poetry generator over the years that I’ve been working on it. The code of the app is simple, but the task of seeding it with language that can be combined randomly to create “poetically possible” and interesting text has been a real headache. In fact, it’s probably nuts to think that you can pull tens of thousands of random words, phrases, and clauses into a computer program and combine them willy-nilly into anything resembling coherent poetic text.

This realization almost made me abandon the program. But then I thought, “What if I let go of the idea that the program has to be completely random and try to create some rules that get the words to go where I want them to? What if I add in some literary devices such as pattern repetition, allusions, personification, etc.? Could that make the text more attractive for others to interact with? And that’s what I finally decided to try. So today, digital found poem still puts pieces of text together randomly like a good old-fashioned random poetry generator. But the text also shows the “heavy hand” of the author. 

For a poetry generator to work, the first thing you have to do, of course, is fill it with language–the words, phrases, and clauses that the program will use to generate the poems. So for years I’ve been adding text that I encounter in my daily reading, that I hear in speech or on the radio, that I see on tv or on the internet, and so on. I also add lots of phrases and clauses that just pop into my mind, in addition to literary allusions that can spice things up.

The list of word that I might add on any given day might look as follows: 

  • drudgery
  • there are laws to obey
  • unearned
  • conditioned by
  • at the closing of the curtain
  • the pain on firstname’s face
  • emerge(s/ing/d)
  • contending with
  • you could’ve loved me
  • when i look in the mirror 
  • as the sea level rises
  • the difference between…and
  • pluralsubject refuses to see
  • i’ve tried to measure up
  • etc.

Note that on a scale from “happy to sad,” this list consists mainly of neutral or unhappy words. You don’t see words like “deeply in love,” or “happy faces,” or “i can’t wait to see you.” And this should be a hint that the poems generated by digital found poem will be pretty dark. And the reason for this is simply that if you try to mix the happy with the sad in a random way, it just doesn’t work. You’d get something like 

what anguish is here

              what ruthlessness

           as the sky erupts

                     we smile at each other

            overjoyed at the beauty all around

Now, digital found poem does use words like “love” and “friendship” and “beauty.” But only in the context that they are over, gone, and done with. So yes, the poems are dark. And now you know why.

The first thing I do any day I have time to work on digital found poem is to add the latest new language I’ve selected from outside sources or that I’ve thought up. Then I test whether the new additions seem to work coherently with what’s already in the program or whether they immediately clash. If they mainly work, I keep them. If not, I discard. And so “the world” of digital found poem keeps growing and growing.

Digital found poem works by having two types of lists. One type is the “data” lists that contain different categories of nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions, phrases, and clauses. (This includes many lists found on the Internet, such as lists of common first names, common last names, names of trees, flowers, colors, birds, rivers, cities, musical groups, etc.) 

The other type is the “pattern” lists, which use the variables from the data lists to create larger chunks of language. So if a data list named paindadj contains the adjectives “lonely,” “miserable,” and “desperate” and another data list named i_feel contains the subject/verb structures “i feel,” “i am,” and “i’ve become,”  a pattern list named i_linking_verb could have the following code: i_linking_verb = i_feel + painadj. And any of the following combinations of text could be printed to the screen by using line = i_linking_verb

  • i feel lonely
  • i feel miserable
  • i feel desperate
  • i am lonely
  • i am miserable
  • i am desperate
  • i’ve become lonely
  • i’ve become miserable
  • i’ve become desperate 

Simplistically stated, the way that digital found poem generates its text is as follows. The code first goes to what I call the master pattern list and randomly selects one of the currently 464 variable items on this list. Items on this list might look as follows: 

line = loc_prep & c & spacer3 & subjectnoun & c & spacer3 & verb_singular 

In this pattern, loc_prep is a word list that contains prepositions of location, c and spacer3 will cause a line break and variable spacing, subjectnoun is a word list that contains all types of singular people or singular personified nouns, verb_singular is a word list that contains tons of singular verbs and verb phrases, and line is the variable that is a collection of all the words, line breaks, and spacing in this pattern that will ultimately be printed to the screen. (The ampersand sign (&) just concatenates all the items in the line of code.) When line is printed to the screen, this pattern can create any of the following variations plus an untold number more: 

  • near the abandoned house/a mystic/sits at the table
  • by the grocery store/a single mom/leaves empty handed
  • on o road/a wise man/equivocates
  • across the street from the women’s shelter/angeline/is walking away
  • between the flowers/this day/can never heal 

As the code picks up an item from the master pattern list (or any other pattern list), it also picks up a flag that I’ve added which tells digital found poem which pattern list to go to next. Note that the items in the list above are all independent clauses with either a gender-neutral subject (“a mystic” for example) or a gender-specific subject (“a single mom” for example). So with flags, I can choose to sent the code to go pick up a phrase from a phrase list, then to another subject list that includes “he” or “she,” depending on what gender is required (or “it”) and then to another phrase list or two. Here’s what a full stanza based on the pattern above might look like: 

  • in this little town/ignazio/has taken the plunge/this lousy tuesday/he’s waiting for the script to change/all at once/for ever and ever 
  • across the street from the candy store/an old man/pays no attention/crazy with the time ticking away/he speaks through forgotten history/made with malignant deeds/at the edge of madness 
  • near the funeral parlor/a lost soul/has come too late/without direction/she carries on with her gains and losses/bound by the workings of loneliness/wondering about everything/here of all places 

With stanza one done, the code returns to the master pattern list and goes through this same process again to create stanza two, three, four, and five. Then the code stops with the completed poem printed to the screen. 

Another thing I should mention (because you see it constantly in digital found poem) is that the master pattern list contains many “fill in the blank” items. All of these are expressions that people use daily in discourse and that you see used also in a million other poems–but with the great benefit in digital found poem that these patterns are filled in in a zillion different ways. Here are some examples:

  • today again …
  • yesterday you said …
  • this morning began with …
  • when i look in you eyes i see …
  • since you’ve been gone i have … 

With flags, these can also be extended to repeat the “fill in the blank” parts as follows: 

  • today again … today again …
  • yesterday you said … today you say …
  • this morning began with … and it ended with …

Here’s are three examples of what stanzas created with the “today again…” “fill in the blank” pattern might look like:

  • today again/we’re condemned to this hour’s deadly concessions/today again/we’re broken in two/drifting off/in one breath 
  • today again/we’re ripped by a mad negativity/today again/we cease to care/wandering in an artless reverie/after a long silence 
  • today again/we’re swallowed up by the messed-up filth of longing/today again/we’re drifting apart/on our uneasy battleground/in the arms of another

This is definitely not random, of course, but including these patterns does bring a level of coherence to digital found poem that you would never get if you left everything up to chance.

So that’s in brief how the text in digital found poem is created. Pretty simple, right? And I continually play with digital found poem by adding new patterns to the master list, searching for new language to add to the data lists, modifying or deleting language that doesn’t seem to work well, correcting spelling errors, fixing grammar elements, etc., all in the hope of making the app a little better with each update and perhaps of more interest or use to others.

Do note that this app works only on PCs/tablets and not on mobile phonesAnd it works on a Mac or other operating systems only if they can run Windows

Should you want to know more about digital found poem or if you have suggestions about how to improve it, please email me.  And any other comments such as “love it,” “hate it,” “fun,” “stupid,” etc. are, of course, also welcome.

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25 digital found poem examples

Here are 25 examples of poems created with digital found poem. I did not create these poems 1-2-3 by clicking the “generate new text” button and then copying the text from 25 successive runs. Instead, I took what looked good to me in one run and then combined it with what looked good in subsequent runs until I had a five-stanza poem I thought looked pretty good. Then I went on to collect five more stanzas for the next poem, and so on, until I had 25.

Although I took liberties by selecting stanzas from multiple runs, I did not take liberties with the text. The text is 99% (or more) what digital found poem actually generated. (I just tweaked it ever so slightly to change a pronoun here, a conjunction there, and so on). I could’ve tried to make the poems better with more extensive revisions, of course–but that I did not do. I wanted these examples to faithfully show the text that digital found poem generates.

But what I did in these examples does show how I envision that digital found poem can be used for poetry creation — take what looks good from one or more runs, revise it as needed, and discard the rest. Or take an idea that a digital found poem suggests and run with it. And the hope is that digital found poem contains enough good text or suggests enough good ideas to get you to write some really good stuff.

If you are intrigued by these examples, and want to generate digital found poems on your own, click download digital found poem.


these destructive demons preparing for the sum of the horrible chaos


                           this is a poem

     at the hour of leaving      

               a poem about our creation and our fall

      risking it all

       at the next address


                      what now

          now that i’ve invented facts      

                i’ve trembled all over

                    in the way

               i’ve remarked on the sum of this silence

                   puzzling over a hellish defeat


                             it’s all here

            the fallout of a few words      

       trying to work things out


                                 we’re bound by      

        these unfortunate motives

      the phony explanations

       this may not mean anything

      frailties were never like this


                                        these awful ultimatums

               to what good

   this epic meanness

          blind to what was going on


raging at the sky in the center of the universe


                               you ask

         can it get any lonelier

       what do you want me to say      

                    what was it all good for


                           i’ve calculated a gloom

           that returns      

               as we trade cold words

           our chaos is reliving the past


                                 if everything’s amiss

         what’s left over      

      if there’s nothing left to build upon

 why did i let it all unravel


                            being was never more hurtful

              than with the house for sale      

                  with the useless asking for the heartache to stop


                    love you said

       love is

           i don’t know

                         a display of life’s lifelessness

                on the list of who’s next


senseless encounters as i take the reeking garbage out


                                    what do i know of      

       yesterday’s hurt

                     the writer’s wicked hopes

           with love come to nothing


                       our love was this inescapable suffering

      our love was cheaper emotions       

       you and i were creating this fiction

              on 538th way

            in this country town


                  who was it that withdrew      

                     reaching beyond the way of the dead

                who endured

                 facing the wages of every day

               the same as ever


                    while others are going to work

             i’m exposed to this script      

              i’ve been cursed by my feeling broken

       trapped in time

                 i’ve focused on eyes full of tears

                   pointing out a biblical nonsense

                afterwards too


                         as always


           the parts of us

          we failed to fix

              as always


                 these unfortunate artifices

                   most revealingly

        having lost control of the situation


trying to survive the appalling isolation of an ancient emptiness


                       there are evenings when

      a callous sky has closed in


              agony pervades

                    with no poetry

         no music


                             from things so delicious

           to this irrevocable pain

              from evening kisses

      to this worthless unhappiness

          how did we get here      


                               we’re walking on j highway

             in carlisle in the evening      

          where drunkards are mistreating everyone they encounter

     and junkies have no shame

           why did everything go so wrong you ask

         and i say who isn’t tired of the bickering

           we’re misjudging everything

                still pretending

       getting back to the same old madness

          truth be told


                  maybe i am waiting to be seen

      maybe i am battling      

                  as i’m eyed by the incorrigible characters on this stage

                   this isn’t me


                 how it will be

     is moment by moment

          standing six feet apart


forging ahead with these ungentle deaths


                         of what use      

       these ready-made impulses

             the dark possibilities

            living like this


                               a sunflower in a vase      

           these desperate excuses

              more twisted figures

        as a bus leaves for san gabriel

                   the enemy can’t be seen


                                     who is it that’s trying to earn a living  

            who is it that disagrees with everything

        in the crucial passage

   you are missing something


          imagining the hurt of twilight


                             on a day just like this

             chagall might’ve stressed a dark aching

               as the sun slipped behind the mountains

               he might’ve faltered   

       as of old

                  getting back to the relics of a horrible humor

         in strange basements


                               we teach each other

       thursday’s gloominess

                   trying to live with the anguish of heaven

                 near the docks

          crossing new london square northwest

              running against the clock

                  on the way to the grave


in light of the disruptive anxiety of a newspaper misery



                    so be alone at a table for two if you want

      and be that woman on the bus      

            you are yearning for oblivion

                    at a loss about us


                                      look how entirely irritable we are

                we who’ve spoiled everything      

      repeating the same things over and over

                 we who’ve felt sorry

             as predictable as this obscene chaos


                 a piece of a worthless misconception

                has continued      

           a surplus of absence

      touches me

           that’s the nature of things

                     there’s always hell to pay


              it’s not a question of waging war on all fronts

   nor a question of trying to measure up      

       a rotten equivocation doesn’t care


             i’m hurting myself

   as clouds drift to the north

 fear is all that’s left


after having spread lies as we argue endlessly



                    so what if hades gasps

      so what if the shops close      

              the craziness lies in wait

           taking up space

        down in the underworld


                           who knows the truth of      

           these unfortunate epiphanies

       a god-awful doom

                     the weight of the inescapable suffering

      doesn’t matter much


                          mine is an intense melancholy    

               going through the motions

      in my emerald imagination


                              i’m finding myself screwing things up    

        provoked by this savage gloom

           i’m seeking what will suffice


                            this madness

        does what it can

                in any case

                    to the sound of a closing door


the repetition of broken pleasure



               the ending never mattered      


                it’s all happened a million times before

            i’ve stood in a doorway

                   in a big way

        i’ve been unsure of what should’ve gone where

            out of necessity

               in a rabbit hole


                 just like us

          the dead have screwed up      

                 mentioning rehashed neuroses

                  seeing past iciest propositions

                   as the crimson leaves begin to fall

       they consider their rehashed provocations

                     faced with the facts of what went wrong


                           everything i’ve dealt with

       begs to differ      

               as words stream by

                fear is cruel


                           why am i understanding nothing      

                 why am i living on empty


                         what it’s worth

              has gone on forever

                 grappling with a catalogue of a painful isolation

          surrounded by red forget-me-nots


the sharpness of what is called for


                               here we are

             roaming the streets alone      

                 turn after turn

          in any case

                we’re pointing out matters of religion

                 asking a thousand questions


                      you may think

 i’m kind of blue      

                     awake to this endless trouble

                     without all the pleasures of the evening

        without the sweetness of love

                  and that’s okay

                   but know i’m just taking aim

                 connecting the dots

                    in unsettling basements


                                  who doesn’t make do with this looking-glass oblivion

               who doesn’t underscore these worn out odds and ends      


                               did we expect to be this sad

           is this really what we expected      

       nobody’s here anymore


                 it is agony that is raising hell

                everybody knows it

               at intervals

      i don’t recognize myself anymore

 as black holes feed on distant stars

              it’s all happened a million times before


it’s revealing j. q. bonnet


                          it’s always like this

               it’s all a blur      

               this is nothing

              that hasn’t been said before

           the failure laughs at us

           asking nothing anymore

          sure enough


                               isn’t it always like this

        who’s to blame      

                  the absurdity is urged on


           this is about the hell we live in

               this is about a broken belief      

                i’ve been cursed by what we did and did not do

           unsure of what’s about to happen


                so it never ends      

          friendship by itself is seldom enough

                     life will go on

                     it all seems so crazy


                        remnants of everything

      at a table for three

       your ifs and buts

       waiting for better days


the making do with the afterwards of a trickle-down disillusionment


              when the wounded die

   it’s unbelievable      

               the world we knew is gone


                      maybe i’m in danger

        maybe i’m entangled in dead ends

                 going beyond this new-made loneliness

            by trial and error


                  someone’s phone is ringing

   who knows what’ll happen      

           did i say that i loved you

      where’s the little girl with her american doll

              i’m hiding away

               i’m losing everybody


                           what was it you said

     a car backfires      

       the graceless gypsy kings laugh at us

           it’s no lie


                    running off

            by the old church

        in this discernable grief

               the sequence of things

              as it continues to rain


blind to what was going on page after page


                           i tell myself not to care

               as everything becomes more pointless     

                  sicklier performances

      as the sun sets over the violet sea


                                i am myself      

                     faced with nothing but uncertainty

        i am rethinking the stop signs

          second-guessing everything


                                    by stir crazy

          i see you talking to francisco

        are we the fools who did this      

           who knows what i am dreaming


                             repeat after me

            there is no second chance

         there is no second chance      

                 with a worthless accent

              before the whole world

            reality has gotten the better of me

               navigating these biblical hang-ups

                    as people come home from work


                                   botching life up

                living like this

                there’s always failure to account for

         no one seems to understand


“how to address what lies were told


                       there might have been too

                for no particular purpose

             in the company of the snowman  

      these childish vices

       these dual identities

       as i’m forced to take vicodin for tmj

          they swear that it’s so


                                    what it all meant

  who knows     

       the entrepreneur of intent sits down to dinner

           burdened with all those little white lies


                                 you’re the amorist they say

             and i’m      

        the dimensions of loneliness

             lying awake


                         the making of grief


         won’t let it lie      

                 for no cause

                    in a house full of



                                      the melancholy

         of living

                for the most part

                it wasn’t supposed to come to this


these predictable numbers


                              i longed for you again today

             i found myself at war with myself      

                   imagining the infinite excesses

           i was 

              discouraged by what happened yesterday

                    far from the limelight

        in this tiresome stillness


                                     here i am

            a world apart

                here i am

 just scraping by      

           as time stands still

                     i am charting these patterns repeating themselves


                 how exhausting it all is

     this violent agony

        these nasty details

        so never-ending      


                            why didn’t i see this coming


   how did i end up here again


admitting our collective denials


                       i’ve learn to see through      

             the whole of being

            the despair

            of all that is

          in fragments

       the anatomy of the craziness of the night

        it doesn’t matter

           it is often so


                           between the art of misery      

                 and the grief of these ill winds

           frustration is dreadful

                 twisting and turning

          like so many other things


                        tonight i too can write the saddest lines      

             i too have detailed the failure of existence

       aging poorly


           as the radio plays starsailor

 i’ve served my time      

                    an uncensored fiction

                   on the heels of these sadder headlines

                i gather



          and slow

        the disappointment slips in unseen

                   mixing water with the wine

                falling into the gutter


tragic ultimatums past conceiving


                             there will be someone

              starring in barefoot in the park

             and there will be someone

             stepping on toes      

                     making do with darker messages

       taking measure of these unkind suggestions

              in the ghostly light


                       i’m stuck in the past

 i’m beyond understanding      

          struck by the narrative of what’s left to come


                  these ghostly imaginings      

                 the way you’re supposed to be

            giving voice to the chaos of the night

            with this cosmic crying

                  under this yellowish light

                     the whole world is in trouble


                       i think of each of our days together


               i’ve survived things beyond my understanding

           i am with half a heart

      acting on imperfect evidence


          confirming these unfortunate choices


                      is it always this confusing

   what story should i tell


after a night of gin


                                    it’s the darkness of the sky 

       it’s the child inside

           as the agony resumes

                 time sits quite still


                          i’ve been dragged along by the dissolution of a deadly jealousy      

                    the unfathomable

                    without self-worth

                  in the last light


out on the town with friends

        we are the cause of this drama  

            we sit without speaking

              in this part of the play

       you are lights out

                 and i’m wishing not to hurt anymore


             tell me

  what led us to this point my sweets

               what led us to this point     

      i’m trying to keep from breaking

                 on the drive back to brunswick

           pondering the specifics of what this all adds up to


                                      evidence of human existence

                outlined in chalk

                the relics of the moon

              in a whisper

     as you turn up scouting for girls

            on the radio


the puzzle of what will be gone tomorrow


                                   tell me

            did i say that i loved you my pretty boy

            did i say that i loved you     

          i’m crossing a line

                     i’m saying goodbye

          without conclusion

                by the light of day


                        oh to be the best at breaking down

                to harp on   

                the despair

         of nothing

               the stinging of longing

                for other people


                                   that detached wanderer deceit

             did laugh at amour through doors not meant for us     

      i’ve disclosed the way there

                     in no small measure

                     i’ve described our creation and our fall

      the same as ever

               bit by bit


                       what it feels like is      

              these old-world improprieties

                stuck here

                  crying and carrying on


                                  the dailiness of our disintegration

          on an altered course

     earlier nightmares

     in every act

              as jackhammers shake the earth around us


out of the blue


                                 is this what you wanted    

              the earth’s mad existence

                 the misery

                of this place

          slouching against a wall

       in an insane drama

          on the plains of waterloo


           i’ve been confronted by these awful complications     

        the ingredients of meaning

                     carlisle’s wicked necessities

                in a catalogue of bedeviling impossibility

            exactly as before


                        i’m in jeopardy

               in light of substantial intrigues 

       the making of afternoon

                sounding out these ongoing inconsistencies


                    these are the days of

      blowing up      

                 the days of all-consuming fear

              as a shrill siren wails

                   the destitute poets laugh at us


                    the parts of the alternatives

 in this plot

       these strange choices

  without fail

      as the actors take their places


hidden behind the opposite of this cosmic crying


                       why do we do this      

      turning away from the goings-on of world

      we are all asleep

                  on i-48

                   good grief


                                    i’m not sure of what the point is     

            puzzling over these iciest fears

      panicking about everything


                              what caused  

      these defective parts

            in one way or another

                     it’s best not to think about this too much


                              as the audience looks on     

           as forests are burning all around us

      nobody cares


                                       just another word

              for the time being

 ugliest emotions

       with no one understanding

              as a guy decides to drop dead

                    across the street from the doctor’s office


obsessed by what used to matter 


                                         inbox full of     

                these shameful decrees

               the gloomiest outcome

       as we forget how it was

        everything is as it was


                        poets in search of anguish

                 review separation      

                musing about the randomness of every day


                         these outworn digressions


        the moody dialogues

        with a new storm brewing

   as uncertainty waits and watches


                                   cold shoulders

              line after line

          a thought of what’s about to happen     


                              the toxic flaws

      now and then

            a colorless chaos

 in shady backrooms

            it’s not lost on anyone


after so many days


                     i know how it feels to be


          know what it’s like to be

      sold short      

                   i’ve been dispirited by a lonely routine

                  i’ve been forever null and void


                            all day

   a rehash of what life didn’t offer      

                   unceasing sentences

                   a little at a time


                                       in the dead of autumn

           the memory of what awaits      

                   the outlines of this day

          at midnight in the garden

              with nothing more that could be done


                 it was raining again today      

                 i was grappling with the otherness of this absurdity

         and you

                  you were running for cover

        under a moon so fatal


and am i darker than this seraph

            am i unprepared for the disappointment of sunrise


           in a primrose hat

 can’t be bothered

        hiding under a stone bridge

          where doom perpetuates itself


waiting here in the middle of nowhere


                  these careless quarrels

 blow by blow      

          these useless limitations

     on cue


                 everything judged

      everything jerked around


        everything at intervals

   everything never the same

   just as before

          as the flood waters refuse to recede

           there is no certainty


                      how painful everything is    

                   hurt has gotten no easier


           it’s all just because


                                 this is the frustration

       that has set in     


             with impunity


                          the grief of the dark

 out of the blue

   nastier provocations

            across so many distances

     it never made sense


the complexity of what all was lost


                         stepping on toes

      with a craftsman’s care      

           taking off the mask

                at the wrong time of day


                            it’s a woman’s lonely heart  

                  it’s the perpetual misunderstanding

          as history repeats itself

               this is what it’s like


                         i’m not sure of

              what will happen

   i’m not sure of      

                     how i imagined it

                   each day is the same

                 this grief has spoiled the game


                       as our love slips away

      the world’s gone crazy      

                   that’s what we get


  you get tired of it                     

    the madness the world over

           the nasty goodbyes

      in the company of swallows and foxes

    reciting fatal nursery rhymes


these darker grumblings most definitely


                             if i were to be treading carefully in this gaping emptiness

           if i were to be unsure of how all this happened

             would it matter      

               i am drawing wrong conclusions

           trapped in deeper differences


                           what ails us

         who knows      

        as the sunrise sneaks up on people sleeping in the alley

              we’re pierced by the very thing that hurt so much


         it all comes down to this      

      the pretense

                  the failure of everything

                     as i carry the groceries inside

             you see how people suffer


                         why am i telling you this

 how did we get here         


the anguish of the morning sun

      on this parched earth

      too many things at once

             have come undone 


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