Skip to main content

My Friendly Neurotransmitters (rough draft)

15:44

In Poland they call unfiltered coffee Turkish. I don’t know how long this has been going on. My clothes are drying on a white rack by my window in Block 7A. I’m in a small cramped room in New Europe. A concrete grave in a maze of flats. These flats are my patrons. I’ve can’t get a grip. My ears keep ringing. Old receipts clutter my desk and I’m feeling a bit like a rat. I want to tell a story but I can only find beginnings. I am all beginnings. Snowflakes are falling and I still can’t see the future. Behold my muscles and all their friendly neurotransmitters. It’s not what I think but what thinks through me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

poets reading poets

There are on A now: Andrews, Antin, Apollinaire, Ashbery


A project from the Atlanta Poetry Group. Check it:

http://atlantapoetsgroup.blogspot.co.uk/

The Poetry of Tao Lin