madness is a desire to be
more than what I need
to smell myself
on home ;
self portrait with anti-antecedent poem
vacuum cleaner
things not usually
on the bus ...
oh how much
is casting expressions
to strangers worth ...
these days as we spend
hours, minutely engaged
from points ay to points be
we see seedy
as demonstrative reaction
eek fuck-ery gesticulation
hold on please I
need to get off here
thank God I took my Vicodin this morning
I thought about getting off more than I did
that guy's face slid off his chin
we use ugly sticks,
on swollen rivers,
when fishing for souls
most assholes have vernacular minds
and know to spend the night together
to reduce the will in ice boxes
for those who watch water rise
it was a low tourniquet Autumn
Spring too for some
wobble magnets said they
what were the three little words stuck
to the refrigerator ...
I Love You in variations
striations and gyrations
in a count of bean jars
Life is You
simple supple and repeating
there was this curious glow
from a half melted candle
on the bookshelf across the room
and I, in my nightshirt
wishing for nothing
nothing but wishing ...
I watched a man
cut metal sheets today
he made boxes and kept them
hidden in the hills
a few miles from the shore
of a great Midwestern river ...
dreams that never err when aired
on misty gauze covered moonlit nights
are milk and honey sweetly hanging
in the willow trees while the ones
that stake claims to being
a learning curve or process
are knees that bend
creak and groan
grown sacred scars
between breaths ...
I admired the plenum
and saw where
the duct work on the furnace
would be finished
and furnished with all
that smelled of Winter flies eventually
because even carrion eaters
will be that fat and happy
we all want to go home as ...
EJR ©
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hello there ...