(Occasionally I write good ol’ fashioned poems. Please don’t steal them for your English homework. (You should know that plagiarizing art is the second worst kind of karma in existence.))

The outsider
peels her label in pieces
spins her square
curses her, you, them, her

goes to the ladies just
for something to do

wants to strike,
but
doesn’t want to raise marks, questions
adds vitriol to curses
tugs her clothes

She hates windows

she piles questions in the void
it fills quickly
but questions are glass
and the void is vivid

True, there is a fairy godmother,
but her price is steep
sticky and shameful
her solutions, transient
(and Cinderella was a toothless yawn (regardless))

Alchemy is no use.
She pretends to believe in violence.

she upsets the circle
she requires angles, corners,
voices must be raised to make the distance-
This Is All Listed In Your Program-
and the current becomes erratic

Her hiddenness humiliates her.

She slips off then,
taking the drag
leaving a glance.