The lyricpoem is invented by hedonism. The lyricpoem isn’t invented by hedonism. The lyricpoem is a movement through the asterisk of wax. The lyricpoem isn’t a movement through the asterisk of wax.

The umbrella looks like the color of snow, which snows like blood through the knuckles, the locomotive, and through the sutures of the orchid.

I write because of the asterisks. I write because of the words. I write because of the provocation. I write to provoke blood and fleece democracy of jailers and their keys.

+ + + +

Bleach invents me. Bleach bleaches my blood and voice. Minimumwage and workingclass knuckles define me. Minimumwage and workingclass knuckles barrage my eponyms.

The lyricpoem is a shovel, an asterisk. The lyricpoem waxes snow and its orchidlike thought.

I’m not a painter. I’m not a percussionist. I’m not an astronaut. I’m not a painter, percussionist, or astronaut because of words. I’m a lyricpoet because of words, those I like and those that provoke my knuckles and their hedonistic fleeces.

+ + + +

The wheatsheaves are jailed between the teeth. The eponyms are jailed between the teeth. Thought is jailed between the teeth.

Provocation, movement, hedonism, and association are locomotives sutured to an umbrella that bleeds my mouth.

The lyricpoem provokes the skull and its eponymous ideas of democracy. The lyricpoem isn’t a snowshovel, a suture, an asterisk, or a fleece. It isn’t a waxy key, even though I am.

I write because I like to. I write because I don’t like to. I write because I need to.

+ + + +

I shovel the thought from its paper. I shovel the teeth from their bleach. I shovel the voice from its god. The shovel is defined as words and the sounds of words.

The barrage of eponyms fleeces the associative locomotive. The barrage of eponyms and the associative locomotive are defined as thoughts.

I use the lyricpoem to invent my umbrella and provoke god, wheat, wages, and knuckles. It’s the same way percussionists, painters, or astronauts use percussion, paint, and space to invent their umbrellas and provoke god, wheat, wages, and knuckles.

+ + + +

Democracy is teeth wrapped in waxpaper. Democracy defines bleach and shovels it into my knuckles. Democracy invents me with a barrage of orchids and sutures.

I write lyricpoems because of the words I am. I write lyricpoems because of the words to be sheaved. I write lyricpoems because of the words barrage of provocation. The knuckles, the snow, the eponym, and the ideas of god all provoke me.

I’m not a painter. I’m not a percussionist. I’m not an astronaut. I’m a lyricpoet.

+ + + +

Locomotive means locomotive unless association reinvents the definition. The same goes for barrage, shovel, fleece, and snow. The same goes for all the words in the lyricpoem.

My words are shoveled into my knuckles by the lyricpoem. I’m shoveled into the lyricpoem by my words and their sounds.

The lyricpoem is definition, navigation, hedonism. The lyricpoem is minimumwage and workingclass. The lyricpoem is suturewax and orchidblood.

+ + + +

I don’t paint. I don’t drum. I don’t navigate space.

I do invent words with my mouth. Without the u, mouth becomes moth. Without the m and the h, mouth becomes out. Without the m, the o, and the t, mouth becomes uh.

To be a lyricpoet is to be an umbrella of wheatsheaves, an association of sutures. To be a lyricpoet is to be an asterisk of shovels, an eponym of locomotives.

God and hedonism are definitions. The skull and the minimumwage are jails. Words and the sounds of words, like snow, make me write the lyricpoem and move it mouthfirst into democracy.