The overcast sky compounded

with the gloomy autumn cold is filled

with chatter about things that are

out of our control. I am back home now,

wondering What are we supposed to do

with these things? It seems lessons

taught to young men by their fathers

are put on hold. Chasing dreams is a jog

kicked into marathon gear. We hop along

quietly, worried about the ration of our air.

Riding my bicycle through my old neighborhood,

my neighborhood once again, I notice

the bags under the high schoolers’ eyes;

the way their corpse-bodies drag,

dressed in clothes that self-motivate;

their nervous and analytical shoulder twitch

fueled by the shaky promises fed -- it will be better

by the time you are where they are, their finger

pointed slyly in my direction.

I swerve home, fighting against the wind,

and, finding myself alone, in my high school room,

I laugh maniacally. I can’t stop. My eyes squint

so hard, tears leak onto my cheek.

Scripted confidence

is unleashed a mangy wolf.

No one knows

I cannot read brains like a mirror.

Sometimes I forget

to breathe while talking.

My lungs squeeze

to mother spurious phrases.

Confused signals

father shrapnel in my eyes.

Lord, help me

find what I want to say

before Death

extinguishes my mind

and my solipsism

becomes a garden of ashes.

Follow me on this

follow me on this,

ideas orbit; they are miniscule but bright,

fill rooms with thread connecting our heads together

so when a single person tilts their head in repulsion

another is attracted in complete covalence

as if every sentence began with

follow me on this

follow me on this,

Billy likes Susie; she is thin and smart,

their minds want to connect, their bodies are in agreement,

their mouths tilt with their heads, together,

thoughts become superfluous and flee the room,

where Susie mounts the bed and says,

follow me on this

Taper me by slivers

down to the bone

make every inch hurt

from the first flake of skin

to the last crack of marrow,

accurate and exacting

organs abound

neatly in their place

forever caught between

thin sheets of glass

bloodless but sanguine

in their immortality.

Split them for your own

science or pleasure;

look at them, look at me,

look at you, flying in between

my hips and dreams,

my screams and lunch,

my brain and shoulders,

my hands and love;

find the music inside me

draw breath from your nostrils or

just draw my nostrils,

sketch my winding globular soul.

Then reassemble my surgical home

and wholly see my painted smile

eyes shut in what I believe

is the heaven-ascension,

a portrait dream

of a white smocked-God,

my ichor rivers still running

down his beautiful body,

a cloud in the sky rifts open

and I am sent up slide by slide.

The fragments of my lambent heart

pulse light between the breaking glass.

Three Quick Things 10/07/09

Today I found out passion is like soup,

sometimes confused

with broth,

that speaking to three people is scary,

speaking to three-thousand is scary,

writing to none is death,

and that it is okay to quit

slurping broth

if you thought, at first, it was soup

a little brain warm up I did this morning

a cloud, a clot, a clam, scoliosis economy, [a little lighter than we came in], we will come out, what do you know about any of this? have you read

this in the news? the news? who writes the news anymore? all i ever get to read is fully disclosed endorsements for weight loss berries, cleaning products, and dance mixes, people to fix up my stitches, make me frankenstein-monster-whole, take away my debt, take it away,

give me a new one, take that one, charge it on this, move it over here, put it in a box, shake it, stir it, write about it because it from the viewpoint of an egg, a snail, a bucket, my lunch, take that too, I am trying to munch on these berries and become the number 0 or 1, even numbers are deprecating when it comes to their image

A flower seen from many different perspectives.

I see a flower,

again,

from the left,

from the right,

I see a flower,

again, from the left

from the right, I see

a flower, again, from the left

from the right, I see a flower,

again, from the left, from the right

I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right,

I see a flower,

again,

from the left,

from the right,

I see a flower, again

from the left, from the right, I see

a flower, again, from the left

from the right

I see a flower,

again,

From the left, from the right, I see a flower,

again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again,

from the left, from the right, I see

a flower, again, from the left, from the right,

I see a flower, again, from the left

from the right,

I see

a flower,

again, from

the left,

from the

right, I

see a

flower, again,

from the

left, from

the right

I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right, I see a flower, again, from the left, from the right,

I see a flower,

again,