(2014)
there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them
shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear. what will happen.
now, I’m no Bukowski but my friends who don’t like poet… except his stuff, tell me they like mine, and I can drink like a drinking machine
shall we turn down the covers, crawl inside? find there a place that’s been waiting for us, a vortex of sorts
if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost
so, come on then, brilliant one, see, i’ve been waiting for you with eyes
just remember we are so much more than words. shadows are beautiful too but let’s not
may be too onerous a task for those not starving. lucky
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
a breeze. already know what’s what. shut up. kiss her. shut up...
leaning into, not against it. no, decidedly for, yes, always that, no matter
love me past the edges, stances and masks, deeper than i know things.
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.
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