they died
or they helped the dying
become a puzzle, to not merge
they cried
and run to protect
their own life on the thinnest verge
then hid
up there, the wooden cabin
over the trees, schoolhouse of rust
scared
of scary, of their own hands
bathed in blood and strange lust
a deep fall
a Noah wronging no arc
and love that ends up in the dust
I’m lost
in so much red and darkness
kneeling with them, kneading past
at five
I’m leaving, it was hard
how to clean up a soul in mud?

the feeling when one knows-
is certain, and even though
he asks for a treat, a service, a thought
it never will come the way he hopes

the moment when one says please
even when knowing there is nothing
for him, nothing that could be coming
and he’ll never become a part of these

virtual things or others’ plight
without a way to get to meet
other than other’s giving need
but no real right to feel their might

cannaloo, I say goodbye to you
while saying hello, please come back
while falsely hoping for someone’s track
of music I just cannot hear, cannaloo

__


if I can do more cannaloo,
I'll just ask you
not to lie-
for your unknowing, well-meant lies
make me birth more self-lies
and those I hate
no lying, mate