underneath all these
prosaic proclamations

the kind of poetry
that rises on its own
climbing your throat
from pump overflowing
and pirouettes off
the tip of the tongue
somersaulting thru ether
into sherbet blooms
underneath every
faerie footprint

they are sampling:

Infinite Loops
Shredded Fears
Sunny Bunches of Whoa
Iridescent Pebbles
& Cream of We

no obligation to buy
just satisfy that
curiosity

while supplies
are lithe

I've gotten to the point
where I can feel
grateful for

arms that held you
when I couldn't
love that found you
even if it didn't
break through

cradling my lovely
while saving me
the ache

of a try
not ready

and if you
are my future
then they are my past
and I will love them, too

even though
I so can’t wait
to **** this town
I know I’m supposed to
Be Here Now

I often detest
knowing everyone
and everyone also
knowing each other
craving the anonymity
of unfamiliar places
new spaces, discovery
coasting below radar
of expectations
of history
of who I
used to
be

every day
every drive
every place I go by
is dusted in memories
or rote routine
either yanking on
my heart strings
or lulling me into
monotonous sleep

but maybe
those two things
are just what I need

an ever-present challenge
to stay alert and in heart
remember the who
I was before
while becoming
the who I am
going to be

and if I can stay awake
clear, centered, grateful
to the new-now me
here, where it’s all so
seemingly same-old

I can do it
anywhere

so maybe
my problem is really
a perfect opportunity

who instigated
Block this Caller
functionality

but that MF
deserves a Nobel Prize...

digital deuces
while they prattle on

to no one

and I oh-so enjoy
the silence

and we get to see
how it went down
in verses parallel
arcing alternate
adventures

and
face-plants