FROZEN SHOE LACES

FROZEN SHOE LACES

IDENTIFY ARCHITECTURE BENEATH MY FEET.

IM WEARING A JACKET THAT I STOLE FROM A PARK BENCH ALTHOUGH

IM NOT CERTAIN THAT IT CAN ACCURATELY BE CALLED “STEALING” BECAUSE THE JACKET WAS LEFT UN ATTENDED FOR AT LEAST THE AMOUNT OF TIME IT TOOK ME TO RIDE MY BIKE ALL ALONG THE TRAIL AND BACK.

IM NOT SO GOOD IN IDENTIFYING LENGTHS

BUT THEY WERE GREAT. AND, I RODE FOR A LONG TIME TRYING TO SEE IF THE JACKET’S OWNER CAME BACK.

I AM VERY SICK OF MORAL GYMNASTICS.

I HAVE BEEN ON THE UNEVEN BARS FOR QUITE A LONG TIME.

AT LEAST MONTHS, INTENSELY…

“AM I LYING TO THE GOVERNMENT?”

“IS IT OK TO LIE TO THE GOVERNMENT?”

“AM I STEALING THIS JACKET?

“IS IT OK TO STEAL THIS JACKET BECAUSE ITS OWNER IS NOT AROUND AND I DO NOT KNOW IF ITS OWNER WILL EVER SHOW UP?”

“MAYBE THIS JACKET WILL SIT ON THIS BENCH FOR A LONG STRETCH OF TIME. LONG LIKE THE LENGTHS I RODE IN WAITING FOR ITS OWNER TO COME BACK”

“MAYBE THIS JACKET WILL GET RAINED ON AND BE PICKED UP BY SOME OTHER RANDOM STRANGER”

“IS IT OK FOR ME TO TAKE THIS JACKET?”

“WILL I BE CAUSING SOMEONE ELSE PAIN?”

I DON’T WANT TO CAUSE SOMEONE ELSE PAIN.

I HAVE A VISION OF A TEEN AGED CHILD COMING HOME AND REALIZING THAT THE JACKET IS MISSING. IT IS A NIKE JACKET. IT IS BLACK AND IT HAS A HOOD AND A ZIPPER RIGHT DOWN THE MIDDLE.

THEN I SEE A BLONDE MOTHER STARING, AND SAYING, “THAT JACKET WAS OLD ANYWAYS; IT WAS TIME FOR A NEW ONE.”

THIS VISION HOWEVER DOES NOT COMFORT ME BECAUSE I CANNOT BE CERTAIN THAT IT IS BASED IN ANY SHEME OF REALITY.

THE JACKET HAS MINOR BLEACH STAINS ALL OVER IT. THIS ADDS TO MY PROJECTED NARRATIVE; THAT ITS OWNER WAS DUE IN FOR A NEW JACKET.

THESE SORTS OF MORAL GYMNASTICS SPIN ME A ROUND SOME TIMES.

I WANT TO PLAY NICE.

BUT AM I TRYING HARD ENOUGH?

AM I DOING HARD ENOUGH?

MY HEART, IN ITS DEEPEST OF DEPTHS, AND EVEN IN ITS MORE SHALLOW DEPTHS, KNOWS THAT WE MEAN WELL.

MEAN WELL

WELL MEANS, ARE MY LOVING HEART TINTED IN.

THERE ARE TWO BUNCHES OF BANANAS ON TOP OF THE TABLE THAT I CALL MY DESK.

THEY ARE SORT OF INTIMIDATING, BECAUSE THEIR LEVEL OF RIPE NESS IS QUITE HIGH AND IM NOT SURE THAT I CAN EAT ALL OF THOSE BANANAS IN THE NECESSARY TIME FRAME FOR BANANAS TASTING GOOD.

I KNOW THAT I CAN FREEZE THEM, BUT, MUCH LIKE MY SHOELACES, THEY ARE COLORED YELLOW.

I DONT ACTUALLY HAVE YELLOW SHOE LACES; I JUST THOUGHT THAT WOULD FIT NICELY IN WITH POETIC SCHEMA.

I feel like curling

i feel like curling

up.

up with a snuggle provided by stitched fabric.

i am jostling about

internally

infernally.

i am finding rutted-ness in exasperated confusion.

delusion?

conclusion.

that is what i wish to reach.

eating with the refrigerator door

open

is uncouth

THANK YOU

THANK

YOU

FOR NOT

PLAYING ME

WHEN

MY NAILS WERE

DIRTY

FROM THE GAME

-JDS

FELT NEED

The 

Felt need

To present

A certain

Face.

Gamed 

Up.

STEEL CUT OUTS

ITS FUNNY HOW

THE BAKED APPLES I HAD YOU PREPARE ARE STILL IN MY REFRIGERATOR

BUT YOU

ARE NO WHERE TO BE FOUND.

THIS ISNT ENTIRELY TRUE…

I COULD ABSOLUTELY SEND YOU A DIGITAL MESSAGE

AND IM ALMOST CERTAIN YOU WOULD RESPOND (almost)

BUT I HAVE

OTHER MATTERS TO TEND TO.

OTHER MATTERS THAT DO NOT MAKE ME FEEL QUESTIONING AND

A BIT

LOST.

HOWEVER, FUNNILY ENOUGH,

EVEN MY SACRED

‘OTHER MATTERS’ CAN AND DO

MAKE ME FEEL QUESTIONING AND LOST.

BUT NOT IN THE SAME WAY OF YOU.

IM NOTICING HOW WHEN I POUR MYSELF A CUP OF COFFEE, I GET JITTERY BEFORE IVE EVEN TAKEN MY FIRST SIP.

ITS KIND OF LIKE YOU.

I LOVE THE TEXTURE OF STEEL CUT OATS.

I FIND IT QUITE DIFFICULT TO NOT EAT THEM, EVEN THOUGH MY STOMACH IS NOT HUNGRY ANY LONGER.

ITS SOMETHING ABOUT THE GLOOPY TEXTURE PAIRED WITH THE TRITENESS OF OAT SIZE.

I JUST HAD TO GOOGOOGOOGLE WHAT ‘TRITENESS’ MEANS

IN ORDER TO DECIPHER IF THERE WAS MERIT IN THE POETRY.

I DISCOVERED

THAT IN MY DESCRIPTIVE USE OF THE WORD ‘TRITE’ TO DESCRIBE THE TEXTURE OF THE OATS, I WAS MIS TAKEN.

SOMETIMES POETRY GIVES LEEWAYS TOWARDS MISMATCHES AND SLANTED INTERPRETATIONS,

BUT, IN DESCRIBING THE TEXTURE OF MY OATS, AS ‘an opinion or remark [which is] overused or of little import’; THIS MAKES NO SENSE.

I TAKE A FEW MORE BITES OF THE OATS.

I KNOW THAT I WILL EAT THEM UNTIL THEY ARE GONE

EVEN THOUGH THE AMOUNT OF OATS

IN THE PLASTIC TUPPERWARE

IS SLIGHTLY OVER

THE RECOMMENDED SERVING SIZE

OF 1/4 CUP OF OATS.

AS I IMBIBED THESE OATS, RUMINATING ON WHAT IT IS ABOUT THEM THAT MAKES THEM SO SPECIAL, I THOUGHT OF THEIR WHEAT TASTE. SUCH A COMFORT.

UNLIKE YOU.

YOU

WHO

IS

SLOWLY

AND

METHODICALLY

MORPHING

INTO A CLOAKED FIGURE OF MY MIND.

I MUST REMOVE THIS CLOAK

BE CAUSE

IN FACT

WE ARE ALWAYS

WHERE

WE ARE.

AND THERE IS NO ARGUING THIS.

IT IS FACT.

AND SO

IN APPRECIATION OF IT

I REMOVE YOUR CLOAK AND THANK YOU energetically FOR OUR (YOURS AND MINE)

SHARED GRACES.

I BLESS EACH OF OUR INTERACTIONS

AND PRAY

FOR THE CULTIVATION OF THE SACRED AND CHERISHED ABILITY

TO TRULY

AND WITH ALL HEART

L E T . G O .

THIS TEA

THIS TEA

TASTES

SO GOOD.

BUT I DO NOT

KNOW

IF THE TIMING IS RIGHT.

I STILL NEED

TO

COMPLETE MY MORNING RITUALS.

I MADE THE TEA

BEFORE

I REALIZED HOW TIME WORKS.

ITS A SHAME, TOO

BECAUSE WHEN I TOOK A SIP

IT WAS

THE PERFECT TEMPERATURE.

THE LEAVES HAD STEEPED IN TIME

FOR JUST

THE RIGHT AMOUNT

WHICH CAN BE DIFFICULT TO DO SOMETIMES

WITH GREEN TEA.

I PLACED A GLASS BOWL OVER TOP

(NEVER PLASTIC BECAUSE OF THE FUMES)

AND I HOPED THAT

BY THE TIME I WAS DONE SWISHING MELTED COCONUT OIL IN MY MOUTH FOR 15 MINUTES

THE TEA WOULD STILL

BE THERE

IN ITS WHOLLY PERFECT-FOR-DRINKING-STATE.

YESTERDAY we LISTENED TO A SONG ABOUT HOPE

TOGETHER

AND THE MESSAGE WAS THAT

‘HOPE IS A DANGEROUS THING FOR A WOMAN TO HAVE’.

YOU LOVED THAT SONG

AND SO DID I.

AND IM STILL HOLDING OUT

HOPE

THAT WHEN I RETURN TO MY GREEN TEA

IT WILL BE

PERFECT

DRINKING

TEMPERATURE.

IM FEELING SAD

IM FEELING SAD

BUT

ITS NOT THE KIND

OF SAD

WHERE I WANT TO LAY IN BED AND DO NOTHING.

ITS THE CONFUSING

KIND

OF SAD.

THE KIND

WHERE

I FEEL LIKE IM NEVER DOING ENOUGH.

LIKE THERE ISNT ENOUGH TIME

AND IM NOT SO

NIHILISTIC

IN THINKING AND LEANING INTO THE

DELUSION

THAT THERE NEVER WILL BE

(ENOUGH TIME)

BUT FOR NOW

WE’LL SAY

ITS THAT TYPE OF FEELING

WHERE

THERES NOT ENOUGH TIME AND

THERE NEVER WILL BE

BUT THEN

THE SONG CHANGES

FROM CHESTER WATSON

TO

SUGAR RAY

AND

“WHEN ITS OVER” PLAYS

AND MY SPIRITS ARE LIFTED

BUT

I CAN FEEL THE

TEETERING BRIEFNESS

OF THIS GLIMMER.

A SLIMMER SHIMMER OF LIGHT

GLINTS THROUGH

THE METAPHORICALLY PLACED BLINDS

ITS FUNNY

HOW

BLINDS

CAN BE

DRAWN

WHICH ALLOW YOU TO SEE.

ID LIKE TO DRAW BLINDS

OR MAYBE I ONLY

THINK

ID LIKE TO DRAW BLINDS.

LETS SEE.

THIS FEEDS INTO MY FEELINGS

THAT

THERE ISNT ENOUGH TIME

AND there never will be.

BUT I DONT TRULY BELIEVE THAT

BECAUSE

SUGAR RAY IS STILL PLAYING.

WE SHALL

SEE

WHAT

SONG

GLEAMS ON MY EYES AND IN MY EARS

NEXT.

PREEN GEN

IT’S FUNNY

HOW

WHEN YOU USE GREEN PEN ON

DARK PINK PAPER

THE GREEN PEN APPEARS BLACK.

BLACK APPEARS IN THE WAYS WHICH MOVE US

INTO CLOSURE.

BLANK EXPOSURE DECIDED WHEN THE CAT MEOWED AT BIRDS

BIRDS WHO WERE MERELY EXISTING.

THE WORD MERE CONVEYS MORE THAN A MERE EXPRESSION.

IT DEVIATES INTO AN INEXPLICABLE UNDERSTANDING OF SOMETHING WHICH

SIMPLY

IS.

I CHECK TO SEE THAT THE BOWL IS STILL THERE,

IT IS

AND SO

ARE THE ANTS WHICH HAVE TAKEN UP 4TH OCCUPANCY.

I SAY A GENTLE BLESSING

EACH TIME

I TAKE

THEIR LIFE

AWAY FROM THE TETHERS OF THIS PARTICULAR WORLD.

COLORS SWIRLED

ABOUT.

MIXING INTO THE EDGES OF THIS REALITY.

DELETED

HOW DOES IT FEELS

WHEN

A POEM YOU WROTE

GETS DELOTED.

YES I TYPED AN INTENTIONAL TYPO.

THAT IS

SORT OF

HOW IT FEELS.

IT’S OFF. THERE IS SOMETHING OFF.

THIS POEM WAS TITLED “THE WORLDS IN SIDE OF ME”.

AFTER I FINISHED BIRTHING IT INTO THIS REALM,

BRINGING IT FORTH FROM

MERE THOUGHT

INTO TYPED AND TANGIBLE WORD,

MY FINGER SLIPPED IN PRESSING “DELETE DRAFT”.

“ARRE YOOU SSUURE?” THE DIGITAL PROMPTER PROMPTED.

WITH A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY AND JUST A DASH OF TREPIDATION

I CLICKED

”CANCEL”.

I THOUGHT EVERYTHING WAS FINE.

BUT WHEN I TRIED TO GO BACK.

”THE WORLDS IN SIDE OF ME”

WAS NOT THERE.

BUT THEN IT WAS THERE! HA! YES!

BUT SOME THING WAS OFF.

I COULD NOT EDIT “THE WORLDS IN SIDE OF ME”.

I SCROLLED AND FUMBLED TO NO AVAIL.

I HAD ONE LAST LOOK AT IT AND THOUGHT ‘I MIGHT OUGHT TO TAKE A PHOTO, TO CAPTURE PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE OF THIS POEM, LEST SHE BE REMOVED FROM THE SILKS OF DIGITAL BINDING’…..

A QUICK DE-VALUATION OF THE SPILL I HAD JUST LET OUT

AND I RESTARTED MY SQUARE SPACE APP.

AS I RETURNED TO THE SAME PLACE I HAD BEEN

BEFORE

”THE WORLDS IN SIDE OF ME”

WAS GONE.

THERE IS A LAST LINE OF THE POEM

LINGER ING

IN MY HEAD.

BUT MUCH

LIKE

AN ANNOYING HALF-FORGOTTEN SONG;

I CANNOT

FOR THE LIFE OF ME

RECALL WHAT IT WAS.

MAYB E THIS P O EM WIL L B E DELOTED TOO.

BUT PROBABLY NOT.

I LEARNED FROM MY FINGERS MISTAKES.

I WILL NOTE,

HOWEVER,

THAT THE RICHNESS IN FLAVOR OF “THE WORLDS IN SIDE OF ME”

HAS ONLY GOTTEN MORE AND MORE PRONOUNCED IN ITS ABSENSE.

IT IS REMINDING ME OF A COLLAGE THAT I AM STILL MOURNING THE LOSS OF.

AN ART THEIF STOLE IT FROM MY SUBLEASED APARTMENT.

I WAS 40% FLATTERED

60% DISTRAUGHT.

TO THE ART THEIF:

I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING LOOKING AT A

LOST

PIECE OF MY

SOUL.

I WILL SEND YOU LOVE, AND CARE.

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE

TO KILL

AN ENTIRE COLONY

OF ANTS

ONE BY ONE.

ONE

BY

ONE

MY PARTS DISENGAGE

FROM RETAINING

THE MEMORY OF YOUR VOICE.

I CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER

HOW YOUR FACE FEELS.

MAGIC IS A SUBTLE ART.

ART EXUDES ITSSELF THROUGH

CONDUITS OF MATERIAL.

IT’S ALL REAL.

IT’S A CLICHE

TO LABEL PAIN

DULL

IM IN A LULL

MISTAKING ANTS ON MY FACE AND ON MY BODY.

THE FEELINGS I LABEL AS MINE ARE EXPERIENCED IN A

NEW WAY

A SLEW OF GRAY

AREAS

51 DRAWINGS COLORED

WHILE WAITING FOR MY BACK TO GET HIT.

IS THIS SADNESS?

I CANT TELL MYSELF THAT IT ISNT.

BUT IT DOESNT

FEEL

THE SAME

AS ALL THE OTHER SADS.

WE TALKED OF BRADS AND CHADS AND YOU

YOU INSISTED YOU

WERENT ONE.

I BELIEVED YOU THEN

AND I STILL DO.

BUT I CANT LIE AND SAY

IT DOESNT HURT WHEN

WE PLAY WHAT I THINK ARE GAMES WITH EACH OTHER.

I WANT TO RUN AWAY FROM YOU.

BUT.

THERE ARE REALMS OF ME

THAT KNOW

THIS IS NO GOOD.

IM NOT AFRAID OF MANY THINGS

BUT

I DO NOT LIKE

THE IDEA

OF AN ANT CRAWLING IN MY EYE.

I DO NOT LIKE

THE IDEA

OF MISSING YOUR CALL

IM TIRED OF THIS ROLLER COASTER

IM SO TIRED OF IT

THAT IVE BECOME USED TO ITS FEELING

I HOLD MY OWN HANDS AND FEEL COMFORT.

I SEE COMPLETED ART PIECES ON MY EYELIDS SOMETIMES.

EXISTING BE NEATH CON FINES

IS NO

FUN

SHIMMER SUN

SWIMMER PUN.

YOUR EYES NEVER MATCHED LEFT AND RIGHT

AM I INSPIRED

AM I INSPIRED

OR

IS IT THE COFFEE

WHITE DOTS

IM IN THE PROCESS

OF SEWING

WHITE DOTS ON TO THE TOP OF A RED MUSHROOM CAP.

I WAS ASKED TO DO IT

AND I WILL GLADLY OBLIGE

ESPECIALLY DURING

THIS TIME

WHERE THE VALUE OF AN ENERGETIC DOLLAR

IS SO BLAZINGLY CLEAR.

I DONT WANT YOU TO LEAVE

BUT SOMETIMES

I MUST CUT

THE MATS FROM YOUR HAIR

WHICH I KNOW YOU DO NOT LIKE

BUT YOU TOLERATE

ON SOME LEVEL

BECAUSE

YOU UNDERSTAND AS WELL

THAT THE MATS MUST

BE

CUT.

YOU DONT MIND THE CUTTING SO MUCH

IF I TAKE THE TIME

TO HOLD YOU IN BETWEEN

I LOVE THE WAY MY FACE TASTES

I LOVE THE WAY MY FACE TASTES

WHEN IM WASHING IT….

THERE IS A LIT CANDLE IN MY BED.

IT IS ON FIRE.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO SHARE MY TONGUE SCRAPER?

I PROMISED THE WRINKLES UNDER MY EYES

A MOMENT

OF SOLITUDE.

OF DOLLS TO BROOD

AMONG

THE SCRAPING OF TONGUES;

APPRECIATED AS THEY WERE

I PERKED MY SENSES AT THE POSSIBLE NATURE OF HUMAN

REMEMBERANCE

REMEMBERANCE

IS A WORD THATS BEEN

FILTERING

FILTERING THROUGH

A LOT.

THERE IS MAJESTY IN OBSERVING MY CAT,

OLIVE IS HER NAME.

MY STOMACH IS FULL OF

ONE EGG

AND A

GENEROUS SERVING

OF

STEEL CUT OATS.

S.C.O.

I LOVE THESE WORDS WHEN PAIRED TOGETHER.

AND SEPARATELY

THEY EACH HOLD THEIR OWN

PARTICULAR CHARM

AS WELL.

BEFORE TYPING THE AFORMENTIONED SENTENCE

I HAD INTENDED

TO REMARK

ON THE UNREMARKABILITY

OF EACH OF THESE WORDS

STEEL

CUT

OATS

WHEN LEFT STANDING ALONE.

BUT THEN I REALIZED

I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS.

WHAT I DO BELIEVE IN

IS

THE POTENT MEDICINE

FOUND PRESENT

WITHIN AND WITHON

EACH ASSIMILATION OF LETTERS FORMING

WORDS.

BIRDS FLEW.

HEAVEN STEW

TASTED RIGHT GOOD.

BY BLOOD,

WE MADE A COVENANT

WITH GOD

A HORSE WAS SHOD

AND LED

AND TOLD

IN DIRECTIONS OF MEANING

”DO NOT EAT WHEN YOU ARE NOT HUNGRY”

AND ALL WILL BE REVEALED TO

YOU

IN GOOD TIME.

THE MILK’S STILL GOOD

THE MILK IS STILL GOOD HERE

HERE

WE’RE WORKING ON THE RELEASE OF

FEAR

HEAR

ME

WHEN

I

SAY

YOU ARE NOT WELCOME

HERE.

I MISSED THE TASTE OF BEER WHICH IS WHY I VENTURED INTO NON-ALCHOHOLIC.

IT REMINISCED OF OAT FLOUR SPILLED INTO THE AIR.

KIND OF LIKE WHEN

YOU ACT IN KINDNESS, YOU MUST CITE YOUR SOURCES.

SOURCERERS UTILIZE THEIR RESOURCES.

BE MORE THAN

THEY WERE TOLD BY HONKING GEESE THAT THEY COULD BE.

REALLY IT’S A MATTER OF SPOILED MILK.

IS THE SMELL AFFECTING YOUR SENSORY CATHARSIS IN A PERCIEVABLY NEGATIVE MANNER?

THEN I’D SAY

TOSS THE BITCH.

HEALING

I WANT TO ASK

HOW IS YOUR TATTOO HEALING?

HOW IS THIS THING THAT I POKED INSIDE OF YOU

DOING?

HOW ARE YOU DOING?

ARE YOU KEEPING SURE TO MOISTURIZE?

THIS IS QUITE IMPORTANT YOU KNOW.

OTHER WISE

THIS THING

THIS BEAUTIFUL THING THAT I POKED INTO YOU

MAY FADE

MORE QUICKLY THAN YOU OR I HAD

INTENDED.

MENDED WAS

MY HEART

OR SO I THOUGHT.

BUT NOW IM REALIZING

THAT EATING PEANUT BUTTER CAN CAUSE OVER EXTENSION

W8

DID I MENTION

THAT IM HURTING AND I NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO.

NOT SOMEONE TO POKE SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL INSIDE OF ME..

WELL

THAT IS NICE IN ITS OWN WAYS

BUT NO

I AM HURTING AND I NEED SOMEONE

WHO CARES

TO BE THERES.

PLEASE

DONT MAKE ME BEG

BECAUSE I WONT.

I PROMISE YOU I WONT.

WE DIDNT MAKE ANY PROMISES

NO PLANS

BEFORE WE DECIDED

TO CULTIVATE EXPERIENTIAL TOGETHERNESS.

THE WEATHER MISSED

OUR PERFECT TIMING.

AND MY RHYMING,

WAS SLANTED.

PEDANTIC

WAS

THE ACT OF LOOKING UP THE DEFINITION FOR ‘PEDANTIC’

I THOUGHT I KNEW WHAT IT MEANT

HERE’S MY POETIC GUESS.

IT IS SOMETHING REPETITVE

HERE

LET ME CHECK

AND ILL GET BACK WITH YOU

OK I AM BACK

AND I UNDERSTAND THAT THE DEFINITION I THOUGHT WAS CORRECT

WAS IN THE SAME BALL PARK

W8

OUCH

BALL PARK.

Y0U PLAY BASEBALL

AND SO THE MENTION OF THIS PARK

HOLDS HEART HURT

ITS ONLY A SUBTLE ACHE REALLY

BUT OH YES

PEDANTIC

HOLDS THE ENERGY OF SOMEONE WHO IS

EAGER

TO CORRECT MISTAKES.

WHICH SEEMS FITTING FOR SOMONE GOING THROUGH AN EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCE

SUCH AS I.

ALWAYS PROJECTING

BUT NOT FOREVER.

NO.

I KNOW THAT MY SHORTCOMINGS ARE

TO BE REMEDIED

ALL IN DUE TIME.

AS LONG

AS I

SEND MY PRAYERS

HEARTFELT AND GENUINE

TO THE SOURCE OF ALL SOURCES

YES

I AM TO BE

REMEDIED

AS I ALREADY AM

IN LOVE

-:- THANK YOU -:-

I BETTER MAKE ROOM FOR MY CAT

I BETTER MAKE ROOM FOR MY CAT

OR

I WILL REACH HASTILY IN GRABBING STEEL CUT OATS.

FINISHING.

I BETTER MAKE ROOM FOR MY CAT

OR

WHEN SHE SAUNTERS TOWARDS ME

WITH EXPECTATIONS OF INTIMATE SPACING

THERE MAY BE NO ROOM FOR HER—

THERE MAY BE ROOM….

BUT NOT THE KIND OF ROOM

SHE LIKES.

I BETTER MAKE ROOM FOR MY CAT

PREPARE A FLAT FLAT SURFACE,

A PIECE OF CRUNCHING PAPER,

CHERISHED ITEM,

OR SHE WILL LEAVE.

UNLESS SHES IN THE NEEDING MOOD

THE MOOD WHERE SHE CAN SMELL THE OUTSIDE

FRESH

WANTING

AND ALIVE.

THE OUTSIDE WHICH BECKONS HER EVERY BONE.

CAUSING HER TO MEOW WITH

SUCH SORROW

IT CUTS ME IN FINE LITTLE CUTS.

I DO NOT LET HER OUTSIDE

BECAUSE I AM AFRAID I WILL

LOSE HER.

AND SO

I MAKE SPACES FOR HER TO BE.

EQUAL PARTS SPIT

EQUAL PARTS SPIT, EQUAL PARTS OIL

(SP) OIL

SPOILED

COILED

SNAKES TAILS

REVILED:

AS I REVISIT THE DEFINITION OF THE WORD…

IS THERE A NEGATIVE CONNOTATION?

WE’LL SEE.

GIVE ME A MOMENT.

I’M BACK

WITH THE KNOWLEDGE WHICH HOLDS A DEFINING ASSESSMENT

OF A WORD

WHICH WAS FORMED

WITCH WAS FORMED.

REVILED HOLDS A CERTAIN FEEL TO IT.

BEFORE I LOOKED AT IT IN UP’S REPOITOIR,

I COULD TELL IT HELD A SHARP AND REPULSIVE NATURE.

NOMENCLATURE

FINDS ITS WAYS ABOUT

IN AND THROUGH

THE SKULL OF “THE DUDE”

AS DISSEMINATED

THE WORD

BY WALTER.

NO FALTER

NO FAIL

NO FLING

NO FLAIL.

GRAB YOUR PAIL AND CATCH THE RAIN.

DO ANTS HAVE SOULS

WE HAVE AN ANT PROBLEM IN THIS HOUSE.

THERE INEVITABLY COMES TIMES WHERE I MUST SLAY AN ANT OR TWO.

I ALWAYS SAY A BLESSING

A PRAYER FOR THEM

BEFORE I SMASH THEM WITH MY FINGER.

I HATE WHEN MY FINGER MISSES

AND THE ANT IS AWARE

THAT SOMETHING SEISMIC IS OCCURRING

ITS LIKE THE ENERGY OF DEMISE IS IN THE AIR RIGHT BESIDE THEM

I HATE WHEN MY FINGER MISSES AND THE ENERGY OF DEMISE IS IN THE AIR

BECAUSE THEN

THE ANT IS SCARED FOR A MOMENT

AND I DON’T LIKE THAT.

I WONDER IF ANTS ARE DIRTY OR IF THEY ARE CLEAN

I WONDER IF THEY CAN HEAR

I KNOW THEY CAN FEEL, WHICH IS HEARING;

SO RATHER

I WONDER HOW THE EXPERIENCE OF HEARING FEELS TO THEM.

YOU ASKED ME ONCE

IF I THOUGHT ANTS HAD SOULS

I KNOW THEY DO.

BE CAUSE

I SAY A PRAYER FOR THEM

EACH TIME THEY DIE

YOU LOOK LIKE WOLVERINE

YOU LOOK LIKE WOLVERINE WHEN

YOU BURY YOUR FACE

IN MY BODY.

YOU LOOK LIKE WOLVERINE

WHEN YOU

IGNORE MY TEXTS LIKE THAT.

IM NOT

EVEN SURE

THAT YOU

ARE IGNORING THEM.

BUT IT FEELS LIKE….KIN TO IGNORED.

KIN TO IGNORED IS

WHEN TO BE BORED,

WHEN TO BE BORED

HAS BEEN

NEVER.

NOT ONCE

HAVE I BEEN BORED AMIDST THIS THRASHING SEA OF SEEMINGLY

HANDLED EMOTIONS.

IM DRIFTING IN THE

OCEAN

PRETENDING

TO NOT BE WAITING FOR YOUR TEXTS

OR CALLS

OH

GOD FORBID

IT WERE A CALL.

I MAY HAVE TO GATHER MYSELF

IN CONTAINING THE JITTERING

ENTHUSIASM.

REIGNING MYSELF

IN.

ALL OF THE SUDDEN

THERE SEEMS TO BE SO MUCH SPACE

BUT HOW

IS IT THAT

I FEEL STARTLINGLY

RESTRICTED

AT THE SAME TIME?

YOU REACH YOUR PAWS UP

BRIEFLY PEEKING

THOSE EYES

UP AND OUT

OF THE HOLE YOU’VE CREATED.

HEAVEN GATED

I TOY

WITH THE BIRTH

OF A SHOP OF THE WORK VARIETY.

I AM THANKFUL FOR YOUR PRESENCE

EVEN THOUGH

I AM NOT ALWAYS

AVAILABLE

TO CUDDLE.

WET SHIRT

SWEATSHIRT

SMELLING OF TOBACCO

FOUND IN THE STREET

THE TAMED IMPALA UNKNOWINGLY ALLOWED IT TO TAKE FLIGHT FROM THE MOVING CAR.

CROONING BAR.

IT WAS SAD.

AND PEOPLE HAD

THEIR TIME TO CRY.

DIDNT I?

IM NOT SURE IF THE TIME HAS TAKEN ME OR IF IVE REROUTED EXISTENCE TO WORK IN MY FAVOR.

A DIFFERENT FLAVOR

IMBIBED

TAKEN

SHAKEN TO THE CORE ONCE MORE

AND NEVER THE LAST

MOUTH OPEN, AGHAST

AT THE PERILOUS NATURE OF LOVING ANOTHER HUMAN BODY WHILE IN ONE TOO.

WE SWAM THROUGH THE MOTIONS AND WHEN IT CAME TIME TO DO THE DANCE

WE BOUGHT OUR SHOES AND WITHOUT (UPFRONT) COMPLAINTS

THE TICKETS SENT US THROUGH THAT FAIR FLING HARBINGING A RIDE ON THE SWAN SHAPED BOAT IN THE TUNNEL OF LOVE.

AN ILL FITTING GLOVE?

’S TOO SOON TO TELL.

TOO RIPE TO SMELL

THE FRUIT BORE

FROM

THE TREE

YOU LEFT FOR ME

IS STILL JUST A SEEDLING AND A FLEDGLING AND IT’S TOO PARTICULAR TO PARCE OUT ITS PURPOSE JUST YET.

JESUIT SUITS EMITTING BLACK ENERGETIC FREQUENCIES.

FIRE FLAMING AMIDST METAL LADEN GUITARS.

INDISCREET ALCHOHOLIC BARS AMONG THE STARS

THERES A GREAT PLACE AT THE END OF THE UNIVERSE