May 13, 2015

ore bit...

photo from Italy? circa 1920, no attributable author found

ore bit

I promised her 
open-window will take
south and east away 
as I dug fingers 
into loam, tracing 
my intentions 
as geometry

there were parts 
of me inside nowhere 
parts I wanted to play 
pieces fallen once 
forgotten then remembered 
words, sometimes 

when the poem get inside
turning a short attention 
spanned life 
into base instantaneous 
gratification ones and zeros 
alone or in a group
we're bitten or bits it spit at up or out
it being something we sit on
and if it means role playing, 
well we'll improvise 
surmise the guises 
that can surprise us still 
and we will fill our pockets, 
it’s the bourbon, bread and cheese  
stealing the sugar-packets off the table
saying to the barkeep, straight no chaser please

we'll nose 
and ease 
our way in 
and out 
of the fantasy ride 
the delve and dive
the exhale language 
wearing what exits hide
eyes fight scent 
for control 
of safe 

we push
into danger 
and zone out 
we are antsy 
and aware 
skin-crawling-ly so
of everything 
we take nothing 
more than a breath 

and we watch where 
Morpheus gets in 
the mobile 
of planets and stars 
spinning slowly above
the baby's crib


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