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Click herePeace checkered small voice
and deep clicking red black
I'm in a bit of a pickle
red black black
getting darker out
twelve strings sliding
us into the night
There's places I can move
but I'm trying to think
about the moment
the very one right here
I can cakewalk it
straight up to the next
criss-cross over squares
I moved Dad
Ok I'll just read the board
or the window, the night
jumping into the sky, kinged
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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An excellent effort,requires a little concentration,I guess the end is like it is.