"Instructions for Wooing Me (Monster That I Am)" hisses like a window expelling its glass guts. The lines are constructed of the sharp, jagged reflections of a self that struggles with the dream of post-modern chaos and a desire for simplicity. These "instructions" are less like instructions and more like a warning against that which buzzes inside.
"Instructions for Wooing Me (Monster That I Am)" hisses like a window expelling its glass guts. The lines are constructed of the sharp, jagged reflections of a self that struggles with the dream of post-modern chaos and a desire for simplicity. These "instructions" are less like instructions and more like a warning against that which buzzes inside.
Lovely poem.