the manliness is over
in this millennium
of women
i say i say
king of the hill
pathetic
and my ache
smallish
yet i
this beast
smell good
have money
excite
once again
take flight

To sand I speak
and it bears
my intensity
Time circles about
and I fester
become fevered
about now
it insistence
on rolling
over all
heatedly listening
to nothing
or never
waiting on runouts
inexhaustible leaving
without waiting
for you

The slip
into poetic mode
the discourage
meant
of not
being read
the time
scouring by
scalding all
I connected to
cool water
imagined

The clatter
of a cup
in a saucer
put down on
a table
scrape clunk
slip click
i close my eyes
to hear the
stirring inside
and i smell
my mother's
awful instant
coffee tang
I will make
a cup of coffee
and set it on          
my table
the eyes
that see me
that saw me last
were uncertain
and still we had
a cup and both
rattled

When gods play
it may not be
a good day
for the lay
and they
will so

I can hear
the next universe
singing
It is all
I can hear
some days
and I know
I am a note
in a cycle
to there
skint of
time

If I wanted to be
one with everything
I'd accept knowing
you
another nucleus
in this medium
trying to hear
the signal
when we all
act as
one
and I just don't
have confidence
in you
doing that
as you might
be filled
with foolish
vibrations
rather than
good
let that play
interplay
if you hear
a song
there is hope