AMASSING OUR OWN ENDLESSNESS
in the place
where no one has time to be themselves
true enough.
And yet never enough
our endlessness still calls us
from some invisible shore
OUR OVERSUBSCRIBED DREAMS
piled into the same van last Saturday night
and the music was loud
the drivers willingly drunk
and in oblivious light of dawn
they drove off a cliff into a different sea
each laughing to itself
that it almost as beautiful as
on Highway One
DID I TELL YOU
About the dream of sauce pans? the ones that have never made a meal they hang above the stove In the kitchen of a lesser god shining monuments to what he one day might make and there is no talk of starving because this god is fed on words that get cheaper as time billows and life loses its urgency Until finally the sauce pans are put to heat after the table has been cleared.
I REMEMBER THE REAL SISTERS
the ones who made their hair all patient
with their becoming
more beautiful by the day
It was hard to believe there was a world full of them
and that there may still beMAYBE YOU COULD REMIND ME
Not to paint the bells I ring
From a memory of how I want them to resound
On some second hand wavelength
That coasts through my ear canal
Whenever we hang up the phone
Like that they’ll ring again
INVITATIONS TO THE LYRICAL SUBSTRATA
Going cheep as fuck
Or for just as much as it costs to be bored
Of your own need to believe
That this poem is really that far away
It aint
And wont ever be
So long as we have these ideas
About saying yes
To our blazing microchip souls
Busy trying to process
Why they are constantly being relegated to the
Scrap heap of what technology could be
Now motherboard is out cold
She has not purred since
The logic board commited adultery
With the lyrical substrata
oh
MATCHED
At some point your socks stopped matching
and so what?
who cares?
But maybe that is just it:
to find someone who cares
enough to make you wear
a pair
