This is today. I have nothing to do but to write.
I thought about possible things to write on to.
I had an inspiration from an academic work on
Literary theories. There was a distinction there,
A separation. Between poetry and prose.
Between construction and deconstruction.
Between daily language and literary language.
You see. My sentences are as distinct as words.
But do you hear me when I say, “hear me now”?
No. The written text never had a voice or taste.
Yes. You can read it aloud, fancy your throat.
Cough a bit before you read my words, pretend
They are important. Pretend you want to catch
The attention of the reader. How silent the air is.
Unless it winds. Unless tranquillity is disturbed
By chaotic forces. I know you are looking for
Emotions. You are on the previous verse though.
Emotions. They are here like a whistle when
You, you are here like a foreign person experien-
Sing life. C is S. Century is sentry. Guard your
Feelings from the cold or you might catch an
Old. When C is K, Cold is Kold. Write it well,
Write like Turks do. English suck at writing.
Rayt layk Turks du. Inglish sak at Raytin.
The evolution of the lettering is not racism.
Turks have learnt to write in Latin from us.
Now, English must learn to write it from us.
Wil yu lörn tu riid dı wey it is rittın? Prosaic Poems are Prosecco Pommes. Ah, Germans.