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