Paul Siegell


*it is what we insist upon*

a red wavy spell check underline, an office off of it

        my only is
        difficult to read aloud without a voice
                a cubescape cascading

too precious             files to back up

spidersight     *     before     *     websites

and if by then a deadline to extend, when thinking
parts the mist: swatting all the flies of clients--

upon the kind

I just keep hitting “Reload”

                 works the world.

                so that I can SPEND my umbrella eyes
       on deranged orange ashtrays

       so that I can SPEND my strawberry seasons
                penciling in snowflakes
       and squander my lover’s agony on fever-blistered
                saxophones    just so I can suspend
       my use of radiance and no longer feel enthralled

            WORK so that I can clean my hunting license
                 with contact lenses and gallop
       thru the alphabet of Amazon electric booksh-

                                                elves--how ’bout that?

                SPEND so that I can key in the front door to        eat
                (sex!) the roof off my utility bills
       and in the mirror say, “They’re nice. They look

       good. I like them.”




*12.31.98 -- moe. -- Electric Factory, PA*
                    --for T. to the power of F.

flipped a 10-spot to “Spartacus”: gift-wrapped a good laughing fit

presented “Time” and I with rides on the “Old Norse Air Force”

with pinched balloons, we zstood on line in the parking lot

Realm 83/4 on New Year’s Eve, almost a go to get groped by security

in the nearby beON’d: zoo/om-ruckus syncopations, and “The Hiss”

objects in an artist’s studio, along with the shadows they represent

elements of excitement filled with skewed depictions of a soirée

something trippy this way stumbles--

another tough day to be a ticketless fan: but: man, the fantastics!

how many of us with college IDs and out on winter break?

hope finals went well for the “Who Knew Krewe,” for Time too fast

inhaled: “Cezanne” painted him a zombie

Time lost influence over the muscles that kept him from buckling under

gave way to a low tolerance for heights

and landed him right in the exclamation marks of my outstretched arms





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