i didn't want to say it
i have before when you
weren't listening
even though i noticed
your earlobes react

i didn't want to remember
what that was like
i had been there before
and i knew
no good could come of that

i sometimes think of writing
things down & scrolling
to the next line
like each verse is
an interminable chapter

i write a book no one
would pay money for
who knew the story
they watched that
in an adaptation

unexpected elements take you
off guard like a startled sparrow
collecting crumbs to build
a semblance of order
twigs come together and
people covet that
in certain places
frosted windows
guard against elements
wind whips up
raindrops begin
those prepared are rewarded
in unexpected ways
as simple as
arriving home wielding
an umbrella with snapped spikes

trying to find
original material
in channels of repeats
i've seen all these
I lived them
never expecting
to repeat
the same plot
dug deep
they all take their turns
shovelling dirt

after the working week
friday deeper into night
the tv news is the same
people drowned tragically
on the prevous broadcast
the limp child's body
reminded me
that these hours
can tempt and trick
with empty promises hard
to fulfill. sunday night
is the saddest black
heads sinking into pillows
imagining other days

at this time of night
a question of wine
knows the answer
despite no enquiry
the show must go on
accomodating misunderstandings
improvised proceedings
when your glass gets to
low tide and having eyed
half a bottle still waiting
just one more
change of channel
to an athlete changing essence
visiting a vineyard to
taste other flavours

late in the afternoon
sun and moon equal
leaving the office
the rain has stopped
I brought an umbrella
incomprehensible logo
for a half hour walk
to work a phone
talking to folks
i don't know their names
i want to understand
how the missing piece
needs a special pivot
to fit properly
completing the picture
you walk down the street
the light turns red
you keep coming

when I think of rock
a curtain of waterfall
an endless footnote