who's hands are these
are they my mom's
they are capable
of working so hard
though i don't
so much, i have
and they do
are they my dad's
i can work with them
they get
how most things fit
pretty much
on their own
are these the hands
of some ancestor
whose thumb swiveled
around abit
are these the hands
at the ends
of your wrists, henchmen
to would-be poets

Ruv you
Ruh-uvving you
(high notes)
I wuv ruv
ruv ruv ruv
ruvuling woo
woo-oo-ing woo
no idea why

I understand why the computers
in the matrix used us for energy
some humans are lightning to me
this sizzling sparking lighting up
one here

well i don't know anything now
do i

I always think I've
written something
then I learn
that I haven't

I always think I've
kitten something
then I learn
that I haven't

You always think I've
hitten something
feel the squirm
and I haven't

.

I am a work of imagination
or I'm imagination working
teams of neurons waiting
to find out
rally themselves somehow
and shoulder to shoulder
suppose something
I am a bumblebee dance
others jiggle in laughter
this goes viral in my cells
a small smile curls my lips
they are all humming now
and volunteer a deep breath
I wonder

I'm steaming
out of run
and it the sun
'at has its grip
'at's havin' its fun

in this pool
of my ablations
i turn my face
to warming
vibrations
what in
a shallow pool
rolls its white
underside
up in hope