An anti-poem of sorts, a self-aware poem that becomes fixated with its own pointlessness, and makes that the point of it all.
"So Many Words"
seventy-nine words until this poem is finished and i am willing to bet just about everything under my feet and slightly to the left (for what its worth) that not a damned thing will have been done worthwhile in all that time. sort of like me with my odd thousands of breaths and a million steps and something like my two-thirds a tantric orgasm or even less give or take a bit more at times and suddenly ended with a tinge of boredoms and and a cellular decrease from the ashes back to the ashes and perhaps from which one might complete
This poem written by W. Doug Bolden.
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