The Bio

Her tepid clay pigeon pen

Unresembling wings or other flying things

Flows

She strangles its narrow neck, interrogation by noose

                                                            Loops and scratch

lines. Facts. Only the boldest,

                                                            truest statements

apply. Condensed herself in this square space she avoids and

skirts the far edges. Newspaper crisps in the October low sun

and pollen makes her more 

Miss Chevious.

Her plump pinkie smears tracks while the pointer pushes on, blame, and her thumb has its privileged back-

space-deletion is better than insertion.

They want to know-she said-Or do they?

Write a Bio 

or abbreviated autography, They have requested                                                                              do in process…

Theories sound better in white, she writes and smears-

-Eternity in a paragraph-

History at present, is blurry. I have aimed at Life in a picture.  It is coming in-and per-fading, presently-the eye-just passing through.  That she-writes poetry. She lived there, has left -no forwarding ad-dress. She still dwells, not here, not She. 

Miss Chevious. 

Good? He too-with two shoes walks the same line. 

Post-haste. 

Mister Place & B. Gananew

Painting by Florent Joseph Marie Willems [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.