A poem by P.L. Munn

My shoes over-worn slip on sidewalks and hardwood floors.

“Why don’t you buy some new shoes?” You ask me.

Well, the thought has crossed my mind,

but I kind of like the scraping sound.

Let’s see how long this will last.

I crossed this room swishing,

saw the reflection and laughed out loud.

The frame lay crooked, rusted. and not once dusted.

Sleepwalking.

Awaken and shaking.

Bruised black like post-season plumb skins,

groped filthy and gorged. Little beast.

Oh! What a joy this has become.

Witness:

This platform is evidence of a meditation.

One wasp circles a quivering spider web.

The crouching spider wobbles up the post and hides.

This model is non-universal yet non-exclusive.

Recognize:

Recognition depends upon the reconciliation between the image recieved and the image the memory recollects.

I’ve been staring at this goddamn reflection for three hours.

Inconclusive, this operation is at a permanent halt.

This message will self-destruct eventually.