Sometimes you get a hand you simply like
and you won't know if you have the right pair
until you get to the end

but in the meanwhile you are investing
into q 2 -same suit
just hoping this is the one

and you won't let go
they just look so perfect together

since you know theres no difference - or perhaps the slightest
between the worst cards and the best
quote on quote

since setting is half the story
what everyone else is playing affects yours
and I know its hard to follow
but there are rules you know

so instead
bank it all on a feather
whilst you wait for death
just remember
to know when to go all in
and also
when to quit.

The General impression
that the fading away bit
had already taken place

But something still  stirred
Like the fortitude of cellos - But only what they've faced
its like you’ve        chugged
someone else’s         blood

it would look so hurt
but its on the inside

pouring boiling water over jello
but its already been made
The recipe had taken place
That part is over

oh contain yourself
“Its in a container”

Settle down
-“I am a settler”

-of this fair land
-
-you belong here
-its not fair
-You cant do wrong
-But where?

but its worn.

There is this consensus
you are washed up
but whats a shore?

Fight in the office
But it's still a box
Thought you were an island
But you were just a rock
A Strange shape sure
but silent though nothing's wrong

Isolated from The legend
And you don't belong
;Something still sounds off
With the way you cough

I mean we both know your lungs aren't so pure
And your teeth are too long
But since it's out of fashion
To withhold the cure
Stupidly, So is it To be strong

A maze with no walls
They move too
But sometimes stop

So I impulse
bought some headphones
That all
It ever is
A pair of Bose
Not saying I didn't do some research
Oh I did plenty of window shopping of specs and all that
So I bought
Them off
eBay
and they told
Me
"It's yours"
In an email

But I know that
The world is mine
As long as I pay

An Irish tap
Between east and west
And still thin sticks exist
And small clouds that
Come in small
And Leave out tall Japanese trees

Ai Wei Wei and his Adam's apple
Tunnel through the French catacombs
And the universal plateau

A desert awaits with needs
Everglades and tall Japanese trees

Elated as daisies and semi tones
touching yellow bones

Fabric scrapes of the lint and
intermittent highways

Make shift ufos with clamoring
pans as protective plans or deterrent
answers

Glamorous
And amorous
Voids the ear
Conversation Awaits
Looking forward
And the rest is history

I want shut eye
And to shut off
Making it worth the wait
Laying in the double duvet
There will be nothing done today
- starting from the early AM
Of course when
In apathetic stance
Which sounds so concerned
I asked and answered,
So repulsed and sure
And then again in collaboration
So what?

If there is itch tangle or sore
Nothing lasting or making sense because of it, and then wishing off to shut
Asking and then answering again
So what.

Given your hands in the benevolent shadows gloom
I grasped the deep, and true colors bloom
In fire-lit hindsight
The ways that bodies exhausted temporal efforts
Through and over
Christmas warmth and holidays alike
Wishing for repetitive cuts
Lines thick and robust
Yet to bend above the high bar
Living in exorbitant envy and simultaneous lust
I wished for words to keep a man up
As Edgar Allen Poe to return
And Onto nightmares haunt
And in profuse soliloquy I discussed
Addressed and caressed the audience and applauded with further praise and *** laude the asked answer of so what.

Carefully to plot
With a protractor and fingers
Then put - in holes all around problems and solutions-
No hole without end instead whole in my hands cusped
I repeat my concern and eternal quest of lines so crossed -
In-absolute and aloof and lost
Returned the question of so what?

This body, the body,
is built,
or shaped,
now into contemporary
catagories,

the body is a place for secrets.

as a pomegranate that
has its seeds pulled back
and a thin film comes between
the next layer of skin.

waiting to leak out
or to be lifted up
for a kiss
I’m
feasting on the twine

the fruits off the vine
the sweetest I choose
or the ones who
rest in the grass below
and silently bloom
leaving their seeds
to near
to grow

these fruit bearers
and the zip files
and fields they include

A pseudo safe
Gave the ayes
It's not the grave;
The why's.

Sometimes,
I want to be beaten
in a sleeping
bag
feel the bruises full of pulp bloat
then drag

I can see this dark figure
sometimes
full of blues
and its pretty bad

Found it in between my eyes one night gloating
but not glad
I find too often Im cross
when I've gone too far and said it all

I wanted to say that there was some sort of filter
but no sooner would I wilt
than share every secret
though more so spill

Did you know that coffee grounds are good for plants and land fills?

Sometimes
I want to believe in God
Some religion
Instead of relying on this figment of my imagination
where I am always responsible:
both the Window and the Sill.

I just wanted to share with you something
a poem
something I wrote
in the hopes you'd notice
some more fragile side to me
one with compassion- and we would probably call it
desperate or helpless at best.

That I could have a broad heart -
though that's not what we want
we want one that's sharp
that will pinch at us
and never give up
that will be ours
exchanging into mine
to me it will belong
for a decent cause
for all the pattern was
a stranger sense of fading love.

Instead
Id speak to you best with
words
that were always indirect
since
if things must be ambiguous Id rather
it be with you and with me it left.

We speak so ludicrously of our losses
wishing our condolences:
a useless phrase.

- - to make the differences
living wishes we must expect
and expect to give.

She laid there on her stomach and gave me her heart on a silver plate

It was so much more than letting me into your fort

I didn't recognise it at the time
But I should have said
You have been the best thing that has ever happened to me
You are special to me - I don't want to be with anyone else and I mean it

I didn't though
Even though that's what I really meant
But it wasn't just because I was scared
When you told me you ****** that 34 year old guy I met one night- the one night we didn't hang out-
I sorta refused to process it- not that we were together -but you mattered - it's aggravating contemplating the things that we cannot count

You told me it matters the day before we spoke for the last time -
I said some additional stupid **** when you said let's just be friends for the last time yet again-
Just to really kick it in.

I wonder if I could have just said it all to you then
But Alive and well you are
So much more intimidating - especially to date
I know I could say it now
But I think I could only say it knowing now that you are dead

We prefer
indifference
things homogenous

though we can  still shake them up
coming to terms with
being alone

Be a Wizard
splash your confetti at me
and disappear

I did my research
but I don’t remember any of those words

but Ill see you when you are near.
I can feel I am closer
to writing in a notebook
just to find out how it hears
than to recover
or restore
a binding,
that looks as though it falls before

your beanie cap
and you walk away
so different each time
is that not reason enough to love you in the mind

I wanted to say I was so sorry that I lived so far
In a New Jersey accent and feel the words slant

My sweet, pretty, well versed commodity;

This was to become my mistaken novelty and spectacle
that I will have felt I should not have lent

To anyone else. For this was no prize,
and not a second hand desire.

This was of the most simplest love to provide.

Laying in bed with you using me as a pillow to trust in youth

I now laid in bed alone and thought of you

and wondered how I might of soothed better,
not seemed to have used you,
not faced the truth,
to lead on to lose.

Now you were gone
And moved on
but instead I seem to feel
the distance grow in my chest
and I know I am responsible
that we lost the will
so I am sorry
I still live so Far

on my window sill
there they stayed collecting dust
and all the sun they need
but not a drop of soil or rain

A well roped mast
but not through my heart strings
but my hands
and my fingers
each one deciding on what to do
and the activities with which they are amused
will determine a habitual future

Both the scholar and soldier
smolder for something more

-

If I dont struggle
then I dont write
its so simple;
to need a fight

a wrinkle in the cool light
a misty mouthful
of autumn rain.

I’ve seen it all
at least most of the words in the suit case
and in turn
a freedom self gained
to enact whichever change;
like things liked to die.


but something I still cant remember
was, if I was estranged
if I was the same
but if that was lame

no house now howls nor hawk cries
nye shriek the syllables
of a growling night

I find as I finally want to send a letter
I discover the daunt- the mail box slaughtered

Sometimes I wonder how clouds can move so slow

and we know they are moving

but still

sometimes they seem

so

still

In the Library

sitting for hours

and I waited for something to happen

tired and agitated
I lifted my flowers and sticky fingers

arranged, into to gentler
and more efficient
bouquets

I left through the weighted silence
that pulled on the room
like gravity
which couldn’t go unnoticed

before leaving, making my small contribution
that was modest,
mediocre, humble
saving a tree and shutting off a light
a bumble bee and it worked

I thought you were more like other females I understood perfectly

And you werent
and thats what I wanted

split teeth in romance,
empty gaps not in lack

I wanted to touch my nose against
yours

and I would have to recognize ours might not fit so perfect

so whilst I imagined

my backlight dimmed
and I was more certain
that I was what I wanted
to be liked by others
And not remain Hidden

Chants from hearts, that can't repent
-I hear from every bar, in soho
and lament
wading the streets
I see
sanctioned off
where I expected sheets of steel to fall
-from the sky

Is this religion?

Dormant disco *****
still turning in sleep
as big as the sun
and so they repeat

and trash, floats towards
then past, the bin

each platform captured within
as a pagan amulet;
persistence permits
and I await initiation

or the decision to elect I leave and project-
across golden maps fading brown, the endless claps on ears that drown.
An incorporated business I suspect awaits a future of decent respect.

everyone shouting "just let it happen"

and then at last a log cottage or cabin I built with my two hands-cremated where the stumps still stand. Of a series of misfortunes I depict this was to be the one I loved the best, for it was robust and could last. It would begin suspended in detention and later appear on murals and epitaphs. As solidified commands.

Graffiti, graff and moss would all overwhelm a tired future of eternal past whilst the wind whistled back through the cracks- "just dance" and "laugh".

The steel bedframe you helped me pick
Is so cold
and Now you sit
In the cafe we used to
And we'd argue the most complex things about whether we'd work or not
And that time is long since gone
Facing away from the street
You have your next man cornered
So he maybe gets his stuff together better than me
While you inquire
And offer him the world

Disregard and reject me
with disinterest
since you can't tell I'm just depressed

every start
waiting form
every essay
waiting to be born.

I is in progress
or out of service.

There is no forward or back
I can't
Make, Progress
each time is fresh
Besides the fact its baked
under a pilot light

On a stage
The same height
as the eyes of everyone who listens
Im learning lessons each time

But Maybe you aren't even looking
this way
sharing a pint
but really,
you each have your own
thought thats not the point

and Im part
of the furniture
we've argued if I constitute a local
but sometimes you come to a come to a wall
and other times it just grabs you and pulls
you into the sheetrock

I live in a fantasy
Im the best singer
and everyone is listening

I don't know if I am
made of wood or metal yet
this curses will weld
or melt
maybe they will catch flames

but Id expect that they were in the foundations
and really, its simply covered in felt.

its the impact
and the implant
that survive this stance
this attraction

I want it to last
between us that we could advance
into another level
of human being

one that obey rules of action
to behave in
and stay that way
we then trickle into separate rooms

choose our future
I know its cocooned either way
and then cached into the files
in that steel frame

when we then return
rolling out like a rolodex of information
waving it in front of each others face
like a roll of hundred dollar bills

and we undo the band
hand out a few
in either direction
to which their rolls others will add
I sincerely appreciate it.

I sat back in the the saturated black
The magnitude of conversation with the deaf
The thick thicket soon to be illuminated
By a wicker man
Something sinister
But something at least, is better than nothing besides the breeze

To then fill with leaves the flames would raise
As children to set loose and torment in little cages
giving glances desperation and dipterous demands

as day shifts                                                                                                                   and the longer you stare
to night, security lifts                                                                                                                           into the air
from my sight.                                                                                                         the more convinced you are
Now begins the                                                                                                                that something is there
extensive fight.                                                                                                                     and if you look hard
one imminent                                                                                                                            then you will find
and brutal.                                                                                                                                             that in fact,
Not of the Mace,                                                                                                                you've lost your mind
but of the Mind.
Though pain,
does ensue.



           by the
gloved hand's shadow
behind your head,
foot, neck and eyes,
above your hair
and just behind
your shoulder.
Darkness seems to
take on different
shades as you stare,
the void nothingness.

5 inches longer than my hips
It drags beneath the floor
Stooped picking ends Up

If it was storage I lost
Then that is what I sorted
To be waiting for my return
And everyplace is an arrival

Some wheels still moved
On smooth grooves and grins
In varnished pavements
Whilst Waving in passing

Since these are the oil lengths
That will separate this way from that
And so will continue

As a thousands hues above the ground

Sleeping through steam and mist
Atop the Atlantic
Or beneath with
black transparencies during the existential technicolor discos

Of arranged meetings of faux upholstery
some that moved with the tunes too
Though most that stayed glued

With that oil that never seemed to dry
Yet managed to keep everyone there in place with no reasons why
And though closer to tar this was not one that flew in through our Olympic airways nor trains or cars

Oh cars
With melted chocolate on the plastic grips that stayed for years
On stretches of land for legs of chairs to soon expand

Some moments are so carefully placed in a room as furniture
Never to move
With or without the planned dance

And through the options here in the sky
Here I will decide
With open window entertainment
which destination and journey
I will ride

Arranged temptations
and the waves of eyes looked up to the skies

wincing in the sunshine
and constricting in the moonshine

lacking direction the succinct steps
aptly named the sparks and saps that retained
the nature to maintain the martian
river and the mountain surrounded by.
both near and far the errors of silhouettes and how they remarked on such high expectations.

quickly shut, opened and parked the car.

sliding closed the arrows and bows suitcases and shows and bouncing pillows. To arrive so fast and slowly

depart.

Since he had gone mad with the passion. He was thinking out of body. He found neither a gentle caress nor the light pet was enough to express it.

Speaking in third person since his over soul was taken over. He found it was a cycle vicious and human that had him possessed. For every trip was soft, as it was grappled with.  To never remove its placement and to come close to strangling it.  It was nothing of a rational life nor mind.  The body to fall behind and under it would go. Almost too desired the eternal embrace; eyes always closed, To dream its perfection, Eyes always open To witness it.

It was no leap of faith, perhaps trust at its best, but instead of claiming it was of things above we called it love. Something much more close and controlled.

Right now
sitting in a Library
and a phone was ringing about 5 minutes ago

no wait,

Right now
i can hear me typing

while I type

I am not going back and editing the words I write
so no repeating
thud thud thud
of the delete button.

I said the phone rang before
for it was its almost comical or theatrical
but let me distinguish, NOT its dramatic effect
in which
I placed the carelessness of a vague email I had just received.

Let me correct, Facebook message
that I received.

A friend, who I had fallen out with
suggesting we reconnect as holding a grudge was

-and again that same ring - this time from the help desk in front of me
rather than the security desk behind me rang.-

was unnecessary.

With all the ringing phones- timid conversation- and typing- with my academic books right next to me- among going through emails- with plans to go home later tonight and make dinner- feeling like everything is flowing so calmly in this library- I would not need to take him up on his offer.

And this seemed to make sense
whether it made me a *******
and my lingering desire to stay
lonely makes more sense to me
than trying to keep really unfrie-
ndly 'friends' around- or desper-
ately trying to cling to whatever
friends I can.

Perhaps I am ******* either
way, depending on how you look
at it.
But right now I not feeling any more pain
than in my left index finger nail
where I have cut it too short.

Next me is a wall
or rather a semi wall
for alluding to an imaginary pathway that guides
or rather
divides people who want to study in the casual study room versus the quiet area.

There is a circular hole in this black wall next to me
and past the black paint, I can see the particle board
that makes up this wall. Then past this particle board
there is space- nothing, a power supply to the outlets built in that I am using now , a camera maybe, cables to the tv on the other side of this semi-wall.

Next to that are my 2 wall chargers that charging my computer
and my phone. And of course my phone, computer
but also, Casio watch and two band-aids- barely visible on the white table background.

Before me
is my laptop
not you,
but my laptop.

next me is my water bottle
metal
a used paper towel
moist
hand cream
closed,

three books

my headphones

next to me is an empty seat
and you are not in it.

but you are not even so specific
as these objects,

you are vague and elusive

you are always leaving
whoever I think you might be

once
maybe right here even
opposite where I sit now
we sat together
and tried to study and couldn't
I gripped your thigh tightly  
and desire for you
and an assertion of your presence
and my true love for you
flowed through me
so legibly

and now the spirit of love
has left that person
and passed through so many others
who are also
not
here
now

I was there with my friends
or a character from a movie that resembled me
on some long street
and we were scared the police would show up
we ran away into the forest
not that we were doing anything wrong
just out to late
though we did have a few drinks

I find its important
to not become convoluted or confused
with what rhymes and makes sense
and whatever the story is
though by nature it is always different.

I could have swore this was some dream I had
or maybe it actually happened
or was it a tale my friends told me-
something that happened to them?

**** it, its strange and painful; remembering

How I hope to be remembered
How I cope to be remembered
are never the same

Your Love didn't move
its just different

Hey,
How are you?
-go---away-----