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Personal Statement

(in which I am)

 

 

Required to move

Past I can trace this

Easier by going back

Or down the way

 

Silver slips into the black

To live on you

Could never get off

Rt. 4 without stopping

 

For fun time

Pizza at least

If you were of a

Certain age I loved

 

The way we all stayed

Silent as the machines

Would play or we’d play

Them our thumbs

 

Around a joystick

To see ourselves

In the eyes of a screen

& talk to the dead

 

Beasts behind

The purple curtain

I knew that I was dying too

Come again even

 

If I hadn’t left

I’ve always been

Impatient I want everything

I have done repeated

 

This plea years later

Kneeling at the pew

With my breath held

In fear I’d drown

 

For lack of better

Words I wish

I would let myself

Leave quietly

 

I haven’t been back

In years & haven’t year-

Ned this much for anything

Since morning specifically

 

Given in the public

Bath & passed on

To everyone I’ve given access to

My life on stall

 

Doors that’s how

This works raised up

On each breech we

Seek to fill

 

What’s rotten

At the core crumbs

Running down

My thigh when I

 

Take this in too fast

What century mistakes

Me for measure

Less images of my like

 

Liehood in whose

Sweating memory

I devour or bow

Down for you

 

I am undone

By the logic of every

Question or every question

I forgot to ask who

 

Are you who are you

Pretending to be something

Dealt with in accordance

With luxury only

 

An iPhone can

Feel with just one

Thumb as if to

Hitch I have

 

Nothing left to give

My family the night

Before Christ

Mas comemos mariquitas

 

Y lechon until we lick

Our fingers it’s our way

Of saying good-bye

& we want more




Chris Campanioni