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.

in between the bread

and the canned goods

and someone filled the

building with

water

to the ceiling

and i am now swimming

because i guess

that’s what anyone would do.

but i’m always up at night,

now a days at least,

joking about ecology

with the pollenated air

and my lungs feel thick

with sweat and cinnamon

but the silver mooned streets

bleed sounds of angst filled poetry

and something about jazz music

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 even alive sometimes.

through the rattling and the

foggy colors,

grey black and blue --

bar lighting and smokey hues

i'm still searching for the truth

in between every word.