Lost for Words

I always liked the idea better than the work
Sometimes when a piece is realized
There is an inevitable sense of disappointment
The same can be said for my record collection

Many I’ve acquired specifically for the artwork or the titles
And many remain un-listened to
Which brings me to my present dilemma?
Of writing words

I need to find words that sit still and do not wave their knickers I the air
Most times the words come first but not this
This time the words have taken a vacation
To some place bereft of modern communication

The telephone comes to mind
As I imagine the soul of Richard Braugtigan
Famed incinerator of telephones
Stalking me like a ghost

I am not opposed to the yes word on the gallery ceiling
Nor to the basketballs drowned in piss
I have remained silent in felt covered rooms
And marveled at the seat of the pop artist

You’d thing that would be enough
To do the job at hand but
I always liked the idea better than the work

And that’s how I got to where I am today
Looking for the words I’ll never say

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