look at all the words
so many all the
*******'d words
I'm the poet
of someone else's generation
the men, the women,
space aliens and
turnip truck drivers
my age,
embrace being the same.
there's no soul
in pretending to be insane.
around the world
in
8
seconds
video
clips
baby birds and oreo vests.
return my cut out
Native tongue.
the words have
all gone numb.

today they've surrounded my chair in the bookstore
with trash
used tissue for snot
and selfish sized candy wraps
someone's been tearing from a spiral notebook
here where I sit with Johnny Cash
long polyester threads
was she teasing her
******* one stitch in time
is this where she comes to unwind
nowhere in here can you find the decimal system
if they ever fix the armrest I'm never coming back
they say inspiration is for amateurs

the rest of us get to work
hours at a whack

and I shook as I
tried to roll
my cigarette in public
they all seem to know
I'm the honest and culprit               Stealing in all their experience
who walks alone amongst it
recovering my distance
can't see my words are lonely                                   not me
working to build bridges
I don't want to know you

knit your own dinosaurs
pick pocket dilemmas' guide to the city
trendy handbag rocket queen pretty
the children dead bright flashy colors
of tremendous yearning to earn their let-downs
here's all the information you need to know
scuba gear doesn't float
jewelry was torn from the flesh of your mother
that your father paid for with his blood and thunder
and now you'll rub paperback thumb and hover
we all remember, for now, and on, to linger
till here comes ‘Love of…’ with the biggest stinger

and we all need you
to bring cigarettes

I'm write, where I'm to be
in the corner
brick & mortar
bookstore
lone hard chair
my right arm broken
with all my problems
I'll bet again sorrow will solve them
toboggan mountaineers
harden before me
in sections of books
that seem to only
be About poetry
they're already dead
the story for them
is on the dustjackets

I, and the wise
throwaway in trash baskets

if I had
hair red
if I had
hair
I'd think to grow it long
my fire
and walk fast
to let it fly
a streak
like a pheonix bird
in your midst
I'm only going
to **** myself,
slowly

I found a million miles of river
run from the lakes of eyes
through the desert face
absorb in oasis pool of taste
pain like leaves falling in grace
will bring new life trees of great