Held

I keep shuffling through future selves, 

realities of hope and composures never known 

These things will not compose me

Occupation stirs only stirring

And then where founds us

These things will not define me

Any more than passing words can be held

Time x Tea

Why am I leaning on my clock

Poor thing never blundered

Maybe that's the fault 

If gods were clocks then I'm sure we'd never stop

Never take time out for tea again

All the more of us to never see again

When we're busy bloody blundering 

Or wondering 

Over our daily doldrum

 

I took a walk

And would you know

A god came up right behind me

He didn't say much 

But what he did 

I sure as hades don't remember

It was probably widening 

Enlightening 

Philosophically teeth-whitening

But I sure as hades didn't hear it 

Because to the truth the Tea 

Planned in ajust about an hour

Of train

Built on principles of the reality 

I abstain

Here he finds me naked

But for shallow remarks

And being a god

Nuff said

He saw to the bottom

I died 

It was uneventful

I was not in time for tea

Which I find simply distasteful

I talk with time

And discuss the merits of universal reform

He said the last one who tried that

Made a man without a father born

And he said those were enough ripples to satisfy the little ones

For now

Not me, though

Where's the fun in that?

Watching to wait? 

Waiting to watch?

I threw my watch at him

I must have lost my temper

He was not impressed

I sorta died again

I'm banished

In the way you will inevitably

Think of the color purple

But backwards

And sorta even more bored

But this time I don't have to worry about gods

Or Time

God.... He was a dick

But I don't necessarily have to worry about those either

No time for tea

Which I suppose means

Nothing

Which I suppose also means

Nothing 

So

In this case of the eventualities and frailties of prime to tertiary distances in the ordinary failing to represent the trails of whatever incendiary carapaces constancy,

I am no longer in time

For tea

I am outside of time

For tea

Which is just alright with me 

Diminuative dinner

These days are so small

Like the drink of a single atom

But the string still rails me to

This common affiliation

To the sensations

Of hilts and screams

And running the into things

That come When I become too big

For a body burgeoning

To bustle over these pinpoint maps

Dot dot dot dot

And so many more drips to drown in

I suckle the last of a given road

I take the time to align some notes on my shelf

Like an even smaller snack

Thin

There are rumors of this man

He doesn't have a face

Maybe it's the sandstorms

Maybe it's the empty space

There are portraits of him that span

Whole seas in the ocean of death

Maybe he's banded from paper

Maybe so, but it's who's guess

There's a tale of another he met

Who actually saw right through him

Maybe there's ghosts in his veins

Maybe he's never been called a name

By those who may have knew him

When he rides by

 he holds his hands

Because while passing

He sees the wind

He sees all of naught within

And sees it's absent plans

Woolen ball

I look into a ball of felt

Running nanotubes

Running bridges 

Freestanding 

Fully pretending 

To help or hinder

I think about blowing them up 

Lest a more malfarious tinder

Take the blame first

But it is a ball of fluff

And as soon as thoughts

Fail to linger

Here they are thrown 

Into jungle 

Into swamp

Rusted through

Forgotten

Grounded through millenia

Of living sludge

I look no more and place 

In my pocket

Memento me later

Memento men to me

To fall and die to me

In a hospitable catcher of flies

Fully epuipped with lip

And soft ties

And even softer eyes

Even softer eyes

So soft I never saw

Like the very heart of darkness

Meant only to cone 

And undo

The due to 

Be done

Backpack

Why do I always wear a backpack 

When I walk out the door

Is it distraction?

Am I any more than 

word's refraction

And this load no more

Than added weight

No more than back contraction?

One day as now

My backpack squishes me

I bow gratefully

As jelly surrounds my field of vision

Turning sight in to its bare

Intuition

Why does my back pack carry nothing

But butts of parchment

I never intend to read

Smelling sootier indeed

Becoming fags 

As they roll themselves

Into disintegration

This now as a day

My backpack covers me

As best it can 

Upturned I nest

The weight transforms

It bursts in wet

An I am filled by a wait

Under neath a walkside tree

Where is the weight 

That I meant myself remain

Like the witerature

Of impossible grasp

Like the spur

Of beautiful, impossible tasks

I shift On stooping stalks

Of Maybe wealth

Of Maybe pain

Of Maybe a chance 

That this next look 

Might not yield the same 

I wear my shoes and clothes on too

For insides, prides

And cleverancy's slew

Of delegated missives

Buzzing my brain in hive

It's living slain behind 

A throw of weight 

And bad pressure mind

New moon

Her last words were not encouraging

I left with an air of airs

Because that's all that might be left

--Pulled the plug

Missed a step

Ripped the rug--

If she left out from under me

I try to take a tone of light

I told her: I love you very much

But I fooled as If I might

Believe us 

Only in yesterdays

As the boys play chess

As a girls plays with mess

As the old play in their duress

I tell myself

As slight to the touch 

As the moon's own dress

"She'll be there.

Somewhere."

And she was not through with me yet

For at our moon mistress' Sunset

At the peak of crown's glory

Lady lists lowly to me

Whispering slowly through me:

"She'll be there.

Somewhere."

And in subtle mess of story

Pauper plays on the steps 

Of a moon beam

As crisp air sprinkles

And sun rise blinds me

Into sleeps like fairy dreams

Then the birdsong means to me

Coming lower in the void energy:

"She'll be there.

Somewhere."

But I don't know

And I never will

Swordblazer

Join my communion

Under the retroscope

Of our spiritwalks

And empty talks

Of nothing at all

As of sprite:

my swordblazer

Broke the pulse 

Of my insular artery

Sun striking in swishblast play

Thrown out 

As an echo that never returns

While we took breath

Of leather palms

And smiling alms

And empty talks 

Of everything at all

Wooden worries

Try tossing them to me

See, I've fine hands for holding

Burnt, broken hands for holding

Delicate woven oak branches

Here sanded to the rough hue

Of sandy lead so that you

Could have moment to bed the

Serenity or serendipity 

Or whatever you called it

I'm no good with those names

I seem to be the only one to forget they exist

I have the hands gnarled enough to be roots

Even though I carved them to fly

An attempt at making 'good' art

Shuffle the dancers

Float on the waters

Grow through the cancers

Fly past the trotters

I still won't be much closer

Isn't it

If'n the radio chides you

On repeat

Don't reap it

If'n the light behind you

Burns wheezing

Just breathe it

If'n the chords alloy aligned 

She

She puts a billow

To my mouth

I cannot speak

She treks the surface

Of which planets

I cannot see

She lines my inner place

With sparks of presence

I cannot repeat

She breaths so fresh

Like spring water

I cannot be

She knows me 

Like I can never know her

And this

Is perfect to me

Somehow sailing

Somehow

You are always at the edge of time

The edge of place ment

The edge beneath my basement

That we all forgot exists

Somehow

It's perfect to be here

See your hair flair

Silently

Because all of us rushes out

Into the sea of something

Somehow

I'm only at home

Without a trace

Without one grain of sand 

On this shore

Without one grain of star

In this space

On the edge

I can be with you 

And be with nothing

It' not that I don't like

Things

Somehow I've gotten too full

And maybe

That's why I walk alone at night

Halting each step 

With painful desperation

Waiting for every star in the sky

To vanish

Radio

A little metal voice

Buzzes into my empty home

It preach lips service

Without even lips

The powerline fidgits

Fudging the phrame sound askew

So I can't tell what he's saying

Almost as if this southern voice

Might be some other creature

Leading the masses

Of ants and spiders

To work together?

To live in harmony?

It doesn't matter 

Metal voice is so soft

And these gatherings

Are not mine to interfere

I'll wait here for the wind

To drown them out

Like a bird that begs you to catch it

You know

I might just have something

So great

That my existence

Doesn't match the comparison

In so many dimensions

So cool

That suns vomit the shock

Into the pool of my 

Casting stone pond

So mine 

That to hold on 

Would mean explosive radiance

A certain death

By living

You know 

I might not have something

Forget about it

Olding glory

She writes a novel

In her sparetime brawl

With a desperation 

Nameless to but the select few

That can afford the leisure 

To waste

I wait her arrival

In summer setting story

And off-bright descending

Into some sort of 

olding glory

But me, it's shame

To be the spearhead of cultivation

Villifying beauty branded

By the broken name of civilization

And where's my chain?

And where are my chains?

Or at least some claims?

Good morning

Good morning 

I wearily state

To thi laughing little

Backdrop canvas

Past the gate

Of distance that cheapens

My attention to tin

Which irony inverses

The furthest scales to chagrin

And yet the keys 

To this plot of skyward gold

Are destined damp to rust

But that's no bust

It's still a good morning

In my dirty drolling hold

Wants

I want

As a selfish little fish

Because fish are simple

I want a train

This train can be anything

But I pray the train is black

I want a whole day 

To last through the night

And help us forget the sun

So that when we reach the world

We can start where we begun 

I want 

The streets to bend like 

Bowing strings of a violin

As we hum across them

I want the heights

To begin folding back unto the depths

To where the sky 

Never existed

But you may fear for falling off the earth

I want the glint of streetlamps 

That spatters in the streetdamp

To look exactly like the stars

Or maybe the stars to look like it

I want the roads

All roads

To lead to more roads

To lead to and away 

From everything

But all the while we are here

Homed holed inside this moment

And the biggest sound of rain

I want this all
 more than I want a name

Idyllyg vyllyg

Idyllig villyg

I can see across the world

I see you now

The rolling hills pass away

I've got a conscience now

If a sky shard dove to meet me

I'd catch it in my heart

There's no one round 

I guess that's the greatest part

Idyllyg vyllyg

Goin to meet you

Idyllyg vyllyg

On the way

Idyllyg vyllyg 

Gone to meet tou 

Today

Steps promise across the ground

I can see it now

Fretwork parting through the sound

I see it beyond now

As the wanderlust tips to teach me

I catch it in my heart

The way goes for miles and miles

I guess that's the greatest part

Home beams through darkened wood

I can see it now

Trees dapple all the world

I see an artwork now

When the hearthstone comes to greet me

I'll hold it in my heart

There's only people for miles and miles

I guess that's the greatest part

I'll have a Bucowski

Like good stirrup 

To feel the edges of your body

I need a poem

I need to buzz myself out

Rework my way

Take seat at the pews

In the library

And divulge digression

Into my scheming sort

Of insurrection 

That crinkles like tin foil

And sparkles in reams

At the touch point 

of my heady state

I need a good interrelate

April colors my beginning

April colors my beginning

And fresh green stirs

My head to spin 

Look ahead that's where you're in

That's gold 

That's grey 

That's glorious

What questions perspections

Provides the supple ray 

With enough change to straighten crags

And sprout the surging of a soldier

The yellow of an atmosphere

Bolstered buttered battered brightened

To pitch me screaming

The rocket blanking bliss

And surfacing only

Of a vacuum that utterly missed

The reason for distance

A blue the color ohm

Suits me up in zips and sits

For me 

It wits for me

I let it hit for me

Until my stuffing sinks to pits

And I see that shuffling even 

Goes too far to say

That I even need

So my april showers devours

And I make this story my claim

To power untold

In the conspicuous folds

Of depressurized mist

Until rains change

And the tips of spurred

All-gravitating 

Corporating 

Interest emits

Buds of brightly greened aphasia 

And fresh green stirs

Colors my beginning

These beams at your sunrise

Grew out of angels voice

And the shear weight 

Made the clouds bend 

in a storm to form 

your aries heart

These whispers through your mind

In tongues like needles 

That god used to knit the world

Fitted the fold of thunder

And fastened the break of sunder

From the storm that formed 

Your aries heart

These bewildering directions of your soul

Blown like harps echoing 

the essence Of permeance 

Gave the electrons Their infinity

Made radiance pause

The spectator at the first star

She was the storm

Of your aries heart

And she blew without question

Shoes

A pair of shoes

Scrub a mile through

A broken pile where

The smoking crawl

Hues severed small

Guileless shrews

To spew blue

Like a fresh bolt of rain

To grow yew

Like an ancient form of sanity game

That pearls bile to drop

And fall to sizzling brevity below

Watches the distance grow

Until the pair hears nothing 

Self commissioned phonisant in three

You wish to see in the world

Threshold essential

Set sham reverse

In passing connection

I didn't want this to happen

Method mold makes massive

Toughest wood

Shining keep

Out the rain shower

Showing

Like advances 

Exposed reach

Seen people

Too many 

Where the people 

Inflect as you may 

No such category exists

The play is set for two

It's small

And yet you can do anything

You can spark whatever large

Comes as small

Board

I thought someone would

Notice

Superficial a thought

And not 

Not even a thought 

But a heart caught

On cliffside vegetation

I feel like a newbie

Working shifts of warehouse

Helping worlds in proscribed maneuvers

Read up tight

And surprised to see the warehouse 

Never checked 

Do I care if a they noticed?

What they which wouldn't notice

Give I notice?

Then. 

My corkboard cracks

A little dry

Dusty

Why did I even buy it

When I know I've no one

To plan for

Flushing eyes

Can

You see past your own eyes?

Is it 

Nice?

Is it

Pretty?

I've been looking for a while now

It all slips around 

As if it were in shallow water

I've been wondering if 

It's worth it

I've been wondering what

 I'll see

When I wake out 

When droop drops 

And the eyelids of affliction

Rise to proper pressure

I suspect

It will happen

I suspect 

That there's no time for

What is it, then?

What is it there's no time for?

There's no time to flow

Downstream seems now upstream

I float it fast

For all I dream

I wouldn't know though

I've 

Never really seen