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K M Jun 2013
this town always felt like a prison

even though there’s front yards, back yards

And grass separating the buildings

A mosquito on my arm

Flip phones and text messages

“Don’t forget to buy fake butter”
K M Jun 2013
There’s an hour of the night

or morning

Afternoon?

I’ve lost standard convention of time

Feynman

Or something

The greek symbols start to shift

Before my eyes

A lizard running down the hall

Little children crawling up my wall

My bed aflame

Unwelcoming

More papers to attend to
K M Jun 2013
I used to dream of ice cream, toy stores

roller coasters and Star Wars

It’s just dregs now, bitter

A nightmare, Twitter

I dream of my mother scolding

Being more than senseless, molding

My father at his cruelest

Exaggerations, clueless

My little brother stolen

my arms not strong enough to hold him

Running, searching, groping

Falling into the ocean

Gasping, reaching for the rungs

Water filling my lungs

Great depths

Unknown wrecks

Sunk ships misery

No buoyancy

Car accidents

Missed tests

Broken hearts

Fire starts

A gunman in the classroom

A sudden crass boom

Glass flying through the air

People screaming, nothing there
K M Jun 2013
The hands that mold us

I am clay

They could smash me into the table

Kneading out the unwanted

Shape me into whatever they thought

Suited

Adding bits, scraping others away

An amorphous thing, waiting to become art

I was almost complete

But the artist thought better

Gently my walls collapsed

Once again I became a handful of earth

Starting over

I was fired once

A low heat

More set, you can’t make

Major changes

But additions, adjustments

The sculptor waits

Pondering carefully

The steps to come
K M Jun 2013
What am I?

Some primate?

An affinity for patterns?

Some superior alpha helix?
K M Jun 2013
What’s this engineered existence?

As if science built it first

We learned to add the numbers

And mix sulfur with our rubber

To manipulate the light

To see beauty everywhere

To create technicolor gurus

Consoling us when we can’t place

A finger on this elusive missing thing
K M Jun 2013
“Find a pile of gold and sit on it”

When do things become pointless?

A limit taken to infinity?

Only tangential relevance?

Does the irrelevance add to something?

I know I’m guilty

Searching for the next big

Distraction
K M Jun 2013
an enigma

a meaning

something inside of me

leaving
K M Jun 2013
I can’t help but think

If I had been a Spartan instead

You’d bleed green from the heart

Not red from the wrists
K M Jun 2013
disposable income

khaki jeans

a secret stashed in a backpack

a walk in the woods
K M Jun 2013
the people sit on mats

eating with their hands

their gods demand no blood

or money

they seem happy

thoughts of second

chances
K M Jun 2013
By the handful the liquid appears colorless

But a quick glance across the rippled surface convinces you it is blue

Cold water surrounds me as I descend

Gazing upwards as I take my seat on the floor

People seem to be flying, a butterfly, though it isn’t true

I know about buoyancy, I know they are merely supported by the water

As long as they keep pushing their way through, they’ll move

The waves on the surface distort my vision

More than I originally thought

The light moves more slowly through the water

Granted I can’t perceive the lag

That little kid running along the pool deck

The action happening maybe nanoseconds, probably smaller

Before I was able to begin perceiving it

With the same idea

I could look into the sky tonight and pick a star

It may very well have died, a fiery hell or a disappointing fizzle

Millions of years ago.

My lungs ache

I push off the floor, relief when my head breaks the surface

Gasping
K M Jun 2013
Slowly but surely

Sip after sip

I’m coming around

Start to forget

Your face and you number

And the house where you live
K M Jun 2013
It’s  peach tea

Spring time

Sitting against the wall, knees bent

Waiting

A shadow

Relief.

Synthetic oil

So the car will steer

Nasty stuff

Stains my fingers

Mindless driving

Familiar streets

Returning.

Dishes piled in the sink

Shoes scattered in the foyer

Stacks on papers

On the floor

Ready to be unattended to

Scolding and slamming doors

Rolling eyes, heavy sighs

Home.

The senior prom

Football games

Sleepovers, gossip tongues

Varsity jackets, the play, the game

The boyfriend, the best friend

Detention, hooky

Never happened.
K M Jun 2013
The color made his eyes dance

A trick of the light, for certain

How they shown

He took such care

Folding and pressing

A stack of buttons

And collars

And sleeves
K M Jun 2013
Cashier’s line, foot tapping, texting, heavy sigh

The steady beep of the checkout

The kid in the baseball cap in front of me

His headphones don’t contain the music

“I don’t wanna be a solider mamma, I don’t wanna die”

The bus whines as the light shifts from yellow to red

A woman coughs, violently choking on years of tar, she looks around anxiously

And rights herself with a casual flick of her cigarette

A couple briefcases walk by, donning blazers and red ties

“Ya gotta be the best if ya wanna make it there. Brilliant! Boom boom boom!”

A woman sits inside a cafe, the spot where people do their people watching

Instead her infant captures her attention, cooing at the pink bundle in the stroller

“Yes you are the cuuutest little thing aren’t you, aren’t you?”

A man flicks his wrist to glimpse the time while he pumps gas

Silent, wanting to be elsewhere, that’s why he’s filling up his tank

A swarm of tourists, each waiting for the others to advance so that they might ****** the prime spot for a photograph

Their voices melt into one excited static

Cars honking at bicyclists and bicyclists yelling at pedestrians who yell at bicyclists

The river flowing quickly beneath my feet planted on the bridge

The Earth alive, rotating beneath the river

The Earth hurtling through the galaxy, through the universe

A passerby scolds me for not moving

Hurrying along
K M Jun 2013
I stand staring at these white washed walls

Feeling like a white washed me

A work of art that ceased to be
K M Jun 2013
There’s a middle age man he is combing his hair

Glares at the mirror for the youth that isn’t there

It escaped him like poison and he drank it like wine

He never new the consequences at the time

Do I know them…..Do I know?

So society’s poisoned by the phone and the web

Watch the people live their lives without leaving their beds

Just a spectacle for our entertainment

I start wishing there was more to life than just this

But what……What could be more than this?

Everything is ready at the click of a mouse

No one will speak not even in their own house

So they start to forget that they even know the sound

Of their voices when they say hey I love you

They’re lost in their muses

But they’re false and they’re proud

Of the things that they think show about them

But they really say nothing and I’m feeling quite sad

Don’t you know…. You could be so much more

I say hold up a fist to the flame in the sky

And block out the light that’s reaching for our eyes

Cause it would blind us….blind us.

Well I’ve stopped taking time out

To consider these thoughts

And that’s a lie just as true as

I like missing shots

I’m confused…..I’m lost…..Who I am?

We’ll I say hey try me on

Maybe we’ll be the best of friends

or pass through my life

Like a dream through my head

Let’s see if…if I can do this…

But all I have for the moment is a song to pass the time

A melody to keep my humming constant

I rhythm to set an example for these lungs

So I don’t give up and start falling fast asleep

A darkness so permanent that eventually I will greet
an imitation of "A Song to Pass the Time" by Bright Eyes
K M Jun 2013
It was a quarter to twelve

Then it was nearly three.

We stumbled up the stairs

Fumbling with my keys.

Open the door

Not sure where to leave this off

Now I’ve got your jacket and your tie

Hanging from my loft
K M Jun 2013
We were smoking Jazz in Brooklyn

Starbucks cups don’t clink at cheers

And it was taxi cabs that filled our years
K M Jun 2013
Resonance

An idea that rings true

Something that causes something else to break

An elevator to catch between floors
K M Jun 2013
An action potential I lack

A chord progression

Make it come back

Busted strings

Hardshell case

Talent that went to waste
K M Jun 2013
It rained when I got home

A baptism of sorts

To wash away the dust

The debris

Of all the bad things

That got to me
K M Jun 2013
Parking lot farewell’s

Summon an angry kind of nostalgia

For a time when I felt

More found

Than lost

As naïve as freshly laundered

Blankets

Not sullen and *****

Freshly laundered bills
K M Jun 2013
I’d pray myself speechless

If I thought it would help

This endless place, vast

Where no one thing lasts

Like the sand on the beach

As the ocean retreats

By dice or design

I’m caught in the deluge, in my best shoes
K M Jun 2013
The vibes are good

Mood is right

A pent up sigh

A cartoon breath

Right out of my chest

A couch cushion evening

While old Conor Oberst

Fills my ears, the hole in my chest

Feet dangling, arm rest

— The End —