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A
few selections from Minimalist Poetry
(c) 1994 Mark Harrington
MILES AWAY
The bare minimum
The lowest common denominator
The least
The last
The lost
CATS (part two)
When the cat rubs up against you, you think it's an affectionate
animal. Instead, it is rubbing its cheeks on you to deposit
glandular secretions, thereby marking its territory. It has no
consideration for you whatsoever; it is merely exerting power over
you: using you as a doormat. And it scratches. And the scar tissue
becomes numb over time.
UNTITLED
I spent the week getting sick
I spent the week weak
I spent the week spent
"How was your weekend?" they ask
ROT
The can was opened and placed in the sun
It went bad
The fruit was picked and left on the ground
It went bad
We were friends
It went bad
MUTE
You do not listen to
What I say
That is why I don't say
Anymore
ARCTIC COLD FRONT
Arctic cold
Front
And back