this coffee is caramel, or piss-colored
and the question stayed choked as i slumped to the floor
and the curled carpet rose around. Ave, ave, ave…
black-and-orange caught our hips and held, soft/tight facial lines
I need to close. I am weighted.
But it is late/early morning and the sun is a one-sided hug
and we know that everyone is probably full of shit, (anarchy) but
that doesn’t stop burnt letters from whirling forth and fro….
suspended. taut line.
what do you know? (me?)
could you speak plainly, straight up, shooter
but this stirs up so much, history
is our deep d[anger]. I miss
the compainionship, the very idea –
would you speak up or will it always be I?
arms draw out
in black, which soaks up light safely
and leaves bright contrast in limestone
I rock, smoothing the surfaces across each other until
A touch of acid and gum, the image fizzles
washed away carborundum
resin dust could give you cancer. So could asphaltum.
but etched in stone is family.
this song somehow encapsulates my current stage of life.
maybe you know the way we are falling
the way that I must sneak
with turned-in nails, cringing against
the wall of you. there is no loss
in long eyes – I read you every day,
splintering on door-sills and lintels. Do you know what fires
lap up the last? How can I forget?
the doughnut tasted like the dentist’s chair
attempt means consequence
what is now is important but later – surprise!
stop ignoring, start remembering
to love open-handedly.
paint blown over
falls. pours. the empty bits drive away
take my shell: grimy nonsense
a muddy-burnt face. love is not
this, store it up for a screen
run it past all of us –
trainers squeak your floor.
back home, this would be an adventure
I would know what to do
something great would happen
and we would eat chapati on the side of the road.
Would. But we are here,
I am windswept, arms folded, staring into a stream off the shoulder
of 215.7 southbound at 7:00pm (it’s getting dark, we have 4 hours to go)
and the engine is spluttering. Maybe it will explode.
Every pothole will be a curse, every damn trucker
will be stress.
my clothes are too big. They hang off my skeleton
like full sails in the breeze, I am pulled
what am i without all this water weight?
it’s been slowing me down, keeping me under
and for the first time in months I can consider
what I really want, the fresh greenery
of optimism and ideas springs up in my brain and spine
I am a little bit freer than I was yesterday and I will drink
all of this rainwater happily