Switching Hour

Should I find it sad
that this white cyber-
space
is no longer large
enough to contain my
implosions?

They've gotten worse
and I've gotten
worse and
damn it
even the dog is
sick again.

(I've written a letter but I'll never show you.)

If anything I've learned
poetry is only
prose more muddled
minus a little vocabulary. It
is
avoidance because too
much description can
cause an avalanche of
that's too much
you don't need this
here so why
don't we condense
it a bit but

if anything I've learned
you can't fit lives
into a shoebox;
they don't keep well
(unless you count
formaldehyde and
eventually that doesn't
matter either) and
there's always the
one letter you never
wanted to read again
or the picture
that's too big to fit.

But you've lost the scissors and you wouldn't have cut it anyway.