as the bluebird lifts it's wings
consider the world
Below & Above.

sometimes we Dance
sometimes we Die
sometimes we wonder
Why Why Why
sometimes it Hurts
sometimes it's Fun
sometimes it's best to
Run Run Run
some days it's Cool
some days it's Rot
sometimes it's Worth-It
most days it's Not
in times of Sorrow
time is Born
time will Leave you
Torn Torn Torn

supposedly it became time
when i was still moving in reverse;
the speed of mannequin stew
chow Hall express days...
thinking no other would ever,
ducking behind grocery displays
in Midtown, dissecting moments
like Frog ****. like how broken glass is
more beautiful than it is painful. like how
the other side of the Valley is a
Mirror until you understand it is not.
"caboose or conductor?"
like how to **** when you have already come.

Raspberry bush of dignity
dangles like
Caribbean silhouettes
making disposable love  
while You & I
read books about each other.

riding the Metro

making silly faces at the six year old

pig-tailed sally two seats ahead.

her giggles stir up dust.

her mother notices & turns around and asks

that I stop disturbing her family.

i tell her to *******

& give her my silliest face yet.

it is so simple to watch you swiftly fall
sinking like dead-man concrete unknowing, not sure
Not sure........
i sing the body electric O my, O my
"we cant keep going on like this that's what," such a
Soft Whisper........& what more
can it tell us.
cut-up package method
brought it to me
random day
"there is no other way, are you sure?"
Response: it is not likely.
it is so simple to know that nothing will ever.
beer helps but wine does better
whiskey is worse but still better
than
None.

the sardonic quest for happiness
intersects with hardy helplessness
in a city of hopeless nothingness
like a mess of blessed ungodliness

when chickens die
they do not squawk.
i shot a rooster
inside a Hole
one black evening
& he jumped out
hi-tailed it.

i chased him
around the yard
loading & re-loading
hopeful not
to make
a mess.

it is difficult to know
what is really dead
on a dark
& windy night.
feathers bristling
on the breeze-line
makes death
look opposite
from fourteen
feet away.

royal blue
tarpaulin
helps disguise
disgust
loading & re-loading
trying to be
helpful.

burps of bourbon
& bottles of
blueberry beer.
fate is easier
to swallow
after Dark.

horse fly buzzing
by my ear, black
stocking cap
pulled tight.
sweat makes
it hard to
grip the
shovel.

i am a sail-boat
in the deep sea
but i am not happy about it.
i thought this was what i wanted
when i left that dock
but i did not realize what
the Wind was up to.
now it has been fifty-four days
& i'm nowhere to be found.

i thought i heard god laughing at me
but i'm not sure what's real anymore.