sketch: it mattered — a lot

crude mono sketch of shapes and lines in patterns

poem: plop down your chatter

plop down your chatter
leave out the black matter
tuned to the key of the sun
just this once
that’s all it takes
to be battered and maimed
old systems and soles of black boots

poem: and so on, et cetera,

and so on, et cetera,
much more, too, goodnight.
need a bowl of curry, maybe set my soul alight
a crushing weak or working, what?
I cannot apply
much to do for mushy matter
I too often fry