that's not poetry you say
yea but it works for me
it's not a dance that's refined
I tell the other side of my mind
just another lame attempt
a wannabe first of its kind
mush stuckina digital rind
feelin' this is quite a
fine mess
only /IP
can parcel this

Unsure as to why that is
it unravels itself openly
unreels, uncoils, unfolds
even spills itself further
into this shallow dish
foolishly as always
and impetuous
not careful
or measured
just emptied
out

I looked Death in the eye
quizzically, and asked,
sincerely surprised
Why are you here?
Death seemed surprised
too
That's not what
I usually
get asked
it said, kinda measured out
listening to itself and thinking
obviously as it went on
Why am I here
doing this
anyway
While I wondered
where else would Death be
or go?
if not on the job
is there a hangout
ghouls after work?
and now Death
was glaring at me
well even more really
and well even quieter than
and I wondered why I
had even asked
as if it weren't my end yet
Why are you here?

There is a poem
arising on this page
hesitantly

It doesn't know you
or what to festoon itself with
to get your attention

which is worth more
than diamonds

Look at your hands
tell them
how to hold
oh they already
know
Whisper about
the feel
of my

Rest them
in the crook
of my
place for them

Spin them around
each other
and you feel distance

Let them flutter
up from the keyboard
and sing

They ache
you know
for entwinement
your fluttering hopeful
birds

Get away
get away all of you
just get away
I can no longer
pay

This thirsty day
asks everything
asks deja vue
asks slaking
and I drown
in nothing at all
privately
I'm at a loss
which were you
on these bases
running

it's dark in here with you
I thought you would
light it up just being here
I thought you would
revel

Hello my neurons
What's it take
To be happy?
Since you are
The endall
The beall
******* sugar
From my blood
What am I
In you?
A song played
On flesh
A story written
In protein synthesis?
A song
Played on nerves?
Flailing dendrites
submit and fire
Oh the breach

Striated things
run counter
as the effort
crashes into
rivulets and dashes
not sintences and *****

Suspecting this result
I've already accounted
and even set aside
i never know what
until later
this follows exactly

though, we may all
be barking here
and the tree there
trying not to be
proverbial again

again things cause
more againing again
and so on and "so it goes"
upland is "straining against"
allthatsilliness that is the trick
that takes us

This small life
unadorned
by fame
or money
or even
friends
still longs

Smaller
than intended
alone
with words
abundant

To describe what
whilst nothing
becomes anything
like something
that doesn't ring
or sing

On this side
I emit nothing
fibers of wannabe
criss-crossing sight
so many
they mat up

Nuts upon which to wrench
this one looser, this one tighter, ah
a field of these happily adjustables
spread out reflecting in some morning
oblique light enough to prevent focus
rows of shining facets wanting turned
and I'm the one to turn them I say

The time I have elicited
elongates or even
telescopes to this' end

Reaching into the dark
bag of tomorrow
disappears my hand

Could it be on you
forever dismembered
leading a happy second

dancing in neural halls
now imagined in mine
absurdly drawn

You've got a clef in your note
just there, use your banjo
or guitar to pick it out

you have to scream and then
they say, you have to shout
it's very certain to work it all out

I'm an orphan of endorphin
pharmacologically uncertain
about to dissolve it all out

You see these waves washing up
you see this shore of heart
weathering about everything

you know it wants to sleep
you know it wants to keep
and listening, it turns around

the water, the momentum of ought to
thrown against hard tomorrow
halt is ground out

Bang a slang gang
I have to rhyme a crime
cram a frambe' hey
big brain in a sleigh
what is a frappe
anyway
say
I have
to hey

I'm down here
tapping away

I am spilling out
here in a chair
hair above
nothing there
not even square
speeding some
where is away
from I heard
from I am
from

that excavation
is done

as is you could
brush away

the crumbs from
your smile
and be happier

I'll take this space
adequately filled
with no one

And I'll drown it
introspectively
with ire

Conspicuous
consumption of
high regard

of breathless absence
and your presence
so willful

straining against
flitting away
from here

I am thinking
of a poem
I might
write someday
that is so good
you will
love it
and
tell everyone
and then
I will
be happy

this is my goal
head drooping
nearly unconscious
barely able
to get up
and collapse
into bed
darkness

This is a nevermind write
something I started without
a light
Something I push on am not
pulled|And I recoil here
And run off.  Or try.
What cravenous
keeps me here
incongruous with the night
and your desires

Searching thru the
"there is"'s I might employ
there is a way
there is a thing
there is a certain
and flipping 'em over
I find the lifter
of I am telling you
the penetrant  
of the membrane
invading
every molecule of now
you sitting knees up
happy in that chair
there

I can't write
I can lie
I can pay attention
in the wrong direction
and raise questions
that do not care at all

because you
are safe aren't you
I can't ring your phone
or rap on your door
to ask about your hate
hidden smirk appears

This is how high the river got, he said
pointing to the line at my head level
half way up the door frame

This rising above which I hold my head
Marking its climb in lives bright line's end
and the thrashing about of my protests

These slashes and the abruptness of missing
Limbs of my life, upon which I have clambered
thinking them permanent turned out other

Time is a razor working tirelessly at trimming
away everything to make room for everything
and I am just these lines moving out of sight

It came to get me
this notion of you
dragged me over
some rough road

If I stay fed up
you know I won't

why does it hurt
just there
when I press in
like this

These hatreds I feel towards you
since you're rich and good looking
and lucky; enough to have my envy
in your packed pockets too

What comfortable shoes you wear
strolling magnanimously through
my imagination my inflammation
my constitution my restitution

Yet you sit in your small space
and wonder at my accusations
wonder at your own perniciousness
and why you haven't recognized it before

it's that you lack imagination specifically mine
it's what writes you in and out of confusion
it's what gripes you into roles so guilty you may as well
resign now and admit I've got you

So I went to the gods
and beseeched them
to give me more ink

they laughed mightily
and gave me a lifetime's
before going digital

I've run out of sober
and am left
with inebriated

Sober, what art thou
I'm wondering
with Sarsaparilla

To a tee
I fit
some feeling

And it isn't
the one
you think

It's closer
to one
you drink

with sunshine
I am
slaking

On my way here
waiting for the box
I forgot the line
that I thought of

I'm successful
I have my **** together
I'm not alone
You'll read this far

What are your favorite
lies to tell?

I don't even
like my stuff
anymore
unwrite unwrite
unwrite

There is a spender
in the attic
of time and silly
ness as if it was
essing on thru
yesss I borrowed that
an' won' give it back

When I am out in here
and think of things
I can say to you there
I'm not here nor there
I am nowhere
and talking about
being there
as if it were
somewhere
and its always
too hot there

If I were gentler
these are the
things I would

This latest poem is early
and burley
and surly
and isn't going to sit still
for any nonsense from you
Dear Reader
Check that reaction
that exaction
That Narrowing down
past my crafting hand
to your wanting
your line here

Or something
of piercing beauty
like you

Sornyom Ah nisbaum
anabow muh hannem
you are welcome here

In the wrong place

I'm not sure how to stop you
from reading further

I'm already broke down
and it's a good thing
I've been afterthoughted
left bobbing along here
by the wave of time
eddy my new exciting friend
has my head spinning
that's when I thought of you
needing something
I could see from here
your hidden longing
and if I just acknowledge it
I take part of it with me
and you exhale or inhale
and we all know

Will this sound
ever catch up
with your vibe

is this still
part of you
vibing

you always
remain part
of the universe

really not
sure about
the multiverse

this verse
however
carries  you

I reject your rejection
now what
I combat your
combativeness
fooling no one
I'm negative
on negativity
particularly yours
I perpetrate myself
further on
forcing a happening
upon happening
I'm thinking
it's laughing I'm
not happening

We should never
create a hate campaign
I heard a politician say
on Amanpour and Co.

They say it is not hate
we just love how we are
Love which excludes
is the same as hate

scalloped moments
like following curves
on skin to our begin

again at losing our minds
we press in
for escape out
into not us
no longer
worried I

only something
wagging a sine wave
into a grinning day

This shattering light
showering through
the tips of our fingers
spraying out of diodes
off the backs of skulls
onto the backs of hands
with enough pressure

I am undetectable
this is a castigation
of a perspective
I slip away from
we aren't seen here
at this synapse
as much as structural
the nuance is not
our nuance it is
how the weight
of our notes
shifting suddenly
derails every vein
and you and I
pump out
endlessly
maybe even
rhythmically as
far as we know

This sip
of the firehose
will be the one

I can tell
by the feel
as it courses

I have on
one sock
my left

the language
has changed
again

hasn't it
this means
that

again
and I'm swimming
I think

upstream
by the lessening
scent of you

It's this hum that starts in me
that has to get out
that starts generating
feelings that sound
like words as
my back arches
shoulders stretch spasm
pulling my neck in
and then I type
and stare
spent

Answer my own question
swallow my own lie
lay here and die

Get up to pie
and toast
and coffee

Heave a great sigh
settle around
death's discomfort

Riddle me why
we husband these lies
paint 'em so high

they are nigh
to the wind
on scuppers of rye

all out
we cry
lay here don't cry

This world misses
the bodies
we stare out from
this midwife of life
so used so often
so alone outside
our enterprise
when they should be
the center