deepundergroundpoetry.com
BMT
For some reason, people
have felt inclined to share
things with me, that perhaps
they wouldn’t normally share.
That night was crisp – cool
Or… Cool – crisp, as breath
crystalized into marbled
onyx of the skies, having a
Vastness, so high that it
hurt my heart, which I, of
course, kept to my self,
waging war with all feeling.
I had just gotten out of a
writing workshop, and was
walking and talking, with a
compatriot of oblivion, as
we basked in the aftermath
of the ritualized experience.
He talked to me about how he
came to believe in something,
how writing paralleled that
process. He said that he
wrote like LSD, but that I
wrote like DMT.
I shook his hand, venturing
into the night, sort of…
Thinking...
I conceived of a new form:
BMT.
Business Man’s Trip.
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