Past
closed up pizza joints
Past laundromats, through the dying noise
the nights tick on like clockwork
watch the calendar as my steps unwind
I'll wait for my thoughts to ferment
pick my words, hope I don't slur them.
Flip back past the page of these days
get a read how I got to this age
From the summit where I'm stuck and posted
reread the books where I come the closest
From the shelf spill my guts to ghosts here,
and relive old nights in Bozeman
When I found a place
where the nights grew longer--
grew confident that I wasn't always wrong
and just drank the moon
under dawntide tables
rolled the dice with the greatest friends
we said, "We're not old yet."
Through
crumbling bones at night
past skeletons of the city's size
the nights fall out like sand grains
curse the hourglass as my fate unwinds.
I'll wait for my brain to discharge
its contents on hospital charts.
Glued the book shut, stuck in the time
I gained my crutches and misplaced my mind.
From the bed that I'm ******* glued to
to cluttered basements I can't wade through
The foundation just won't hold up
against the cracks formed in Missoula.
Ran off the rails
where I stumbled and stammered
grew comfortable beneath pint glass hammers
I still drink the moon
under dawntide tables
grown apart from the greatest friends
who said, "You're not dead yet."
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
Past
closed up pizza joints
Past laundromats, through the dying noise
the nights tick on like clockwork
watch the calendar as my steps unwind
I'll wait for my thoughts to ferment
pick my words, hope I don't slur them.
Flip back past the page of these days
get a read how I got to this age
From the summit where I'm stuck and posted
reread the books where I come the closest
From the shelf spill my guts to ghosts here,
and relive old nights in Bozeman
When I found a place
where the nights grew longer--
grew confident that I wasn't always wrong
and just drank the moon
under dawntide tables
rolled the dice with the greatest friends
we said, "We're not old yet."
Through
crumbling bones at night
past skeletons of the city's size
the nights fall out like sand grains
curse the hourglass as my fate unwinds.
I'll wait for my brain to discharge
its contents on hospital charts.
Glued the book shut, stuck in the time
I gained my crutches and misplaced my mind.
From the bed that I'm ******* glued to
to cluttered basements I can't wade through
The foundation just won't hold up
against the cracks formed in Missoula.
Ran off the rails
where I stumbled and stammered
grew comfortable beneath pint glass hammers
I still drink the moon
under dawntide tables
grown apart from the greatest friends
who said, "You're not dead yet."
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