Okay I’m not done
Okay I’m not done
Chairs aren’t meant for listening
If you sit down the ears don’t open
Like a programmatic machine line
It’s a dance with the chair
Not a dance with me
If there was a time constraint for us
That would make all constraints useless
Plus, plus, plus, plus, plus
We could do this
It’s a dance with your amygdala
I cannot dance with you
And now you’re particles
Your lovely particles
Probably mostly still in Idaho
But some of them I’ve breathed in?
It’s a dance with you, Dad
I will always dance with you
“Do you live here?”
What do I need to get out of this shirt
The things she suggested feel empty
Vinegar will only set me off
The color will blend in if I leave it
The color is almost the same
I’m not afraid of the superstition that I’m wrong
That up that hill I look methed out
Sometimes I’m tired in my sweater
It’s baggy but
I’m cold
Me smelling like vinegar, absolutely not
The stains can stay and I will be
More honest
Less trustworthy
Endearingly yours to call the cops on
We spill sometimes, on pavement, on seams
On dreams, sure
I’ll lay in freshly paved asphalt
In private awareness that
I’m not the problem here
Curses
With soup and sour hope
A slosh comes out clean
Fridging to the pot
Mix the words in scene
Arrows like the wind in their hair
Bullets like the stop
Words like the vibrating air
Knives are the chop
Allez
Allez
Make the meal soon
Open Space
If trails aren’t cleaned by wandering feet
A lack of roofs won’t make them neat
I’ll sweep them with a shuffling glare
In hope that I won’t find me there
My, how I live for miles of pain
In dreams I strive to eat the rain
And slosh around in paths and clay
But do not feel the same today
I like my roof, my house, my sink
And I like lots of wine to drink
At night I save the wild to judge
As places where the wise should trudge