Last night I was thinking about William S. Burroughs and cut-ups, so today’s poem was created by writing sixteen lines, some of which had something to do with each other, others are more like observations of my surroundings. I numbered each line and then used a random number generator to re-arrange the lines into the poem.

One to Sixteen

Let the world remember us
Librarians shush as I walk through
White fellas are always the most important
Or leaves of a sick plant
White fellas are always the most important
My shoes clomp along the street
I carry an umbrella
Other colours have to wait in line
Because it’s raining today
Nothing means anything if no one experiences it
White fellas are always the most important
Peek around corners for inspiration
Some people have purple hair
Without us making our marks so deep
Ella has a favourite restaurant
Locked doors peak interest
Librarians shush as I walk through
Her eyelashes are like feathers
Breathe in, breathe out