The Soloist

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Mica Kim

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The Soloist, by Mica Kim
Corrode the soloist so hopeful moments
Flow through the forward most cortex
The foreword overshadows the context
Harrow to warm the bed for roses
Clothing so hopeless
Four poses open the floor to more matters
The mat brainwashes. My lap should
Be cautious but my clashes aren't happening
So no more lameness that must come
I can't, not like this. Maybe when I
Startle myself my thing is
Telling me something. Blissfully I tattle
Some words in my well. Something about
The bush that fastens when I dream
These thoughts can't be seen, so, cleanly
I bleed them onto trees so teens can't
Feel the things that meanly I need to
Hear. I don't want the thing to go away
Leave me with nothing but a future of
Hurt. This is the part where the guy
On sax harps massively off key and
We just call it real. The soloist screams
As the band leader tattles

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