4/14. NaPoWriMo. Gabbert, Schmabbert. April is the longest month.

BLOGPOEM AFTER TONY TOST


We can’t assume that today is not the last day, or that yesterday wasn’t.
In scientific terms this sentence contains very little information.
I can’t escape the feeling that my poems think they’re better than me.
The world doesn’t need this sentence, or has convinced itself of such.
At least one sentence in the English language makes an implicit connection between poems and barn owls.
I desperately want you to notice me without me having to exert much effort to make you do so.
For the purposes of this sentence you may assume that “you” means you.
As of the end of this sentence the author no longer supports the poetic gang rape of starlings.
If there is a God he doesn’t give fuck all about sentences.
Within our lifetimes technology will advance to the point that I could email myself to you.
I too am guilty of making assumptions about birds.
If we are nothing more than bits I wonder which one of us has more bits.
Do I like you, or do I like the idea of me liking you?