.
do you feel it ?                                                 
like an empty unhaunted room                    
      with the night fooled
                                 it's curtains drawn ?
like a forrest                                                      
   ­       extinguished of creature sound ?
   do i feel like my child feels                               
                      like when he is sad or neutral
      or pondering the number of his age  (5)
or figuring how to tell us he broke a thing 
or to brag                                                    
      about his new favourite discovery ?

do i feel as nature                                          
                ( for surely that is unavoidable ) ?
or like a forgotten astronaut                            
                           ­                       (later  to be noted in song) ?                     
               whatever i feel                                                             ­   
            it's some kind of exploratory action
that's always the way, isn't it ?                        
                                       ­           a 'goddy' thing

i feel like i'd rather not feel                             
               i know fear explored provides reward    
     but i habitually drivel information                    
    and check in   inflamed   on habit patterns

berating the fish for breeze / randy on the shore
a casualty of the seaside seas                                
                            ­­     they preach until they bore ;
the gulls and their crustaceans / tide and tale  
but no end of their frustrations                          
                          ­    light up the slick of oil
and bathe the night            
    maddened with acceleration

.
what devils can i get away with in words ?
like arranging mercury slinks              
to make a true thing    unbloated and blue
an honest note of mood
or  instead  floated finks of corpse              
vicious old swears                                
  with nasty rash of discrimination
hold still   it ain't pretty but              
         i can capture this picture
.

night                                                        
this is texture of apparition      
a little restless heat
the cat crosses between balconies
the cardboard set of the backs of city houses
stage of charming murders and secrets
the skies speed and health dominates          
there's a detonation of the half moon
then the treads of clouds                                    
and a sharp code of shooting star
we have no right                                            
bathed with loving context
we should behave to earn such a view
but our smarts aim                                    
at now't but hazard and flirt
war dooms at beat for thunder
the night skies become ominous                
                     with our ruined broach
suspended under every breath