he's made it to the leaping-off place
it was a beautiful stroll up
and the wind
    makes hair feel free.

he's made it to the leaping-off place
the sky tides the wispy white dreams
of faraway things
    but the ponderous rote
of the dirt
    binds him and bids him delay.

and he writes—

life looks so good in green, friend
a feet-light frenzy in polychromatic feelings
white white fingers on a lite-brite brain
pull out the pegs—time to feel insane
    to let it all out.
sunshine rain from your cucumber eyes
if only the littlest drop
will make me whole
    i'll make my soul an impluvium.

the faraway below, and the folded wings
the sun, the moon, and the unimaginable pinpoints
of what wishes are
    everything in the sky and earth
is in his head
    and his hands are empty.

he's made it to the leaping-off place
and grass stains his jeans as he stares
lost in thought
    wondering, pondering in a storm of
lethargy
    the implications of leaving the ground.

beautiful beast,
i can't let you free;
I have to keep you
leashed to my brain.
it's not a good idea
  for you to be running  loose.
you would be perceived
    as dangerous.
"hide your children. hide!"

don't struggle
against the choke collar.
        you won't starve.
  you won't starve.
                    you won't starve.

everything i want to say gets l ost in the fray.
don't struggle
against the choke c ollar.
      because it's choking me.
stay clos e by, keep me company.
            there Is plenty of food out there.
                                              there is plenty of fo od.
        there is plenty of fooD somewhere.

i  t hi nk
  you're too  scary to catch your    quarry.
i have to ke ep you  here.                              leashed.
all  you want is out of reach  anyway, mutt.
                    in the trees, in    the clou ds
                                                      on the  map,  in my hea d
                                in bits of  pap er, in bites  of          met alloids.

don't  struggle                                        ­                    you keep me alive.
against th e              choke        co llar.
y ou   won't st arve.
                        just feed    on                    me.
  j      ust                   ­                                             feed on m
                                    e ju              st
fE          edo                        nme.   ­                   b                    ea
                      ­    uti f        u                l      b            ea                 ­       
    be                                                   ­                                               st.
              ­                  a
                                             ­     u
                                      ti

                ­    ful
be
                          a
                          ­                    s[hi]t.

sorry, but she's taken.
taken by the dreams she chases every
waking moment.
her best friend is the cold edge
and silver line between taking the moment
or letting it slip to roam her past
like a silhouette predator
with an appetite for reality.

memories dreamed and children grown
no one told her this house wasn't home.
she fell asleep on her death bed...
missed it all.

took a while to sort through the ashes
and most of what they found never existed.

POTATOES are so livid,
and i think
if your belly had eyes like your face
  you would be half as insightful
as three words crawl over your skin
        while you sleep
        while you think
        while you push buttons and feed
  your ears with POTATOES.

for we are God, and you

  you are not.

uniquely
separated
by heart     and body
i'm-
iss you completely
without knowing what
forty-eight thousand tiny men
take me to
   your eyes
and one thousand seven hundred steps
times seven hundred forty
take me to
   your doorstep
every day in
   my mind
for a supposing.

uniquely
separated
by hEArt and     body
i'm in lo-
ve with your words and
millions of sudden thoughts
that were always farther away
than you.