it’s been a while
since i’ve written
because i forgot who i was
and i prefer not to write
as anyone else.
but strange
so strange.
just walking through
the aisles
of a grocery store
and suddenly
i’m no one
and i don’t know why
i’m even here.
between the bread aisle
and the canned goods,
and suddenly someone filled the
building with
water
to the ceiling
and i am now swimming
because i guess
that’s what anyone would do
and i might be drowning
but there really is no way to tell.

the earth turns
and i’m always up at night,
joking about ecology
with the pollenated air.
my lungs feel thick
with sweat and cinnamon,
but the silver-mooned streets
bleed sounds of angst filled poetry
and something about jazz music
and an undying endless fury
at 4 am after the earthquakes,
and bombs crash
so i wonder—

who stole the ribbons from the sky,
and why did the earth get warmer?
i’m back pedaling through
my no one mind
and when things get lost
they aren’t always found
and i don’t believe i’m alive
sometimes when i find
rocks in my mouth, or
i'm choking on the air in
my house, and my cheeks
are burning hot enough to
burn the place down.
be still, through the rattling
of my ribcage and the
foggy colors --
grey black and blue,
bar lighting and smokey hues
i’m going somewhere but i will be back soon.