a broken record

on a busted player

unplugged

from blown out speakers

God!

i've got so little left to say.

even if the b-side weren't garbage

to fill up space,

it's still just a spiralled range

of clear-cut mountains

that emits nothing to needles.

God!

i'm flea market junk

abandoned to boxes beneath a table.

who could pull a single sound

of praise from me?

If you find him or her, whoever,

please let them know where i'm waiting