I feel a calm
in your hold
a peace within reach

I’m arms length away
defeated by feet
a screen display between

Your fingers seem to
push me outside
through keystrokes

Palm pressing
knuckle dusting
dancing digits

I’m too tired
besides I’m not
that
*****

I did it yesterday
which counts for something
and I’ll do it tomorrow
which doesn’t count at all

But today
it seems like work
and what’s worth
that

I was clean enough in the morning
sheets only a week old
plus this would be me being green
no need to waste the H2O





Day two without showering
I definitely need it at this point
pizza on the plate last night
worn on the face this morning

I could say I’m doing it
for the poem now
but it really just seems
too nice

Just get up and do it
is not really a reason
it appeals to some part of me
but I'm hard of hearing it out loud

How long could I go
before conceding
to drowned out drops
and softened locks




----------------------

rain on skin
open pores and warmed sores
robed within steam
I think the soap is unclean

At first I slept on the second section
when pulled out from beneath the rest
and left like an exhumed tomb

But soon consumed
by a womb within a room
like a capsule hotel
with chili string lights

Padded plenty with blankets
pillows
and lack of headspace

A bread break with neck aches

No warning
maybe some
didn't check

Formed over Dorchester
Yesteryore from shore stretches
Ore of tomorrow quite heavy
Tore open today to lessen the load

I’m getting carried away again,
or am I letting myself?

The river runs deep and reaps what leeches sow
blood in the mud but the mood is on buds
beaches of cheap seats to a preaching of Mother’s own
muting the boots of cubic shooting suits

The currents pull is incredibly strong;
but I might just be pushing too hard.

Blessed by a crest that’d test a jest-besting guest
watch ‘em swamped n’ stomped by a real wallop of a wave
a new craze of cadence encased in layers of nets
left bereft guessing at the message in a maze

It’s draining me of strength:
and filling me with calm

A new time as old as one that few knew
but it cues a new attitude: a shoe in for blues
refuses to stew on intrusions of youth
infusing a juice of consumable roots

i-come-from-a-cage-
small-and-it-thinks-
it’s-really-bright-there­,
makes-it-quite-hard-to-shrink.

With the instincts of  mime,
left breathless every time
i cried for escape.

-Quaver-

Iwasshamedanddetested,
IconfessIconsent­ed
byforceof a friendship
mostthoughtasoffensive.

But fiction begets
‘Til diction forgets,
Best left alone.

-Crotchet-

Grown up and free
But still trying to be
The rage I engaged with
That made ‘you’ a ‘me’.

Born on the page
Sworn to a sage
Age old as beauty.

~Minim~

Feudal -- in -- flight
create -- your -- own -- kite --
to -- strive -- for -- a -- night --
of -- sleep -- without -- fright!

Tighten your chest
There’s a fight in your breast
Maybe might, just find,

~Semibreve~

Bag #1:

I am afraid
Of-POW-
A lot of things
But-POW-
More than anything
I-POW-
Am afraid of
This
Punching Bag.

(ding ding)

Hanging itself by its own chain
Harangued and mangled by big bangs
Strangled by change.

How does it function?

Bag #2:

It hardly has a heart
A dangling participle in the grammatical arts
Two words worth of work.

How does it feel?

(ding ding)

It’s comfortingBANG
This
Fear of recoilBANG
Because
The softer I hitBANG
It
The softer itBANG
Hits
Back.