I find it puzzling the generation of sidewalks that pass on the way to the grocery store.
Times when my tongue clicked at the passing trees and hot air
made me scream.
Katie always did her best, but her best against the summer  
beast was no great feat.  

Feet, on one hand, were not something I could stand the feeling of, with all their nerves and endings.
On the other hand, feet are not hands, nor am I holding one in my hand,  
for that matter, nor was I in the Volkswagen when the trees were waving by. Excellent
times to think back to.

I made it to page 40 on one of my documents
One of few to get this far
Now I want to describe what it is like to drink
Or be drunk: yippy, conscious in a scary way
Poopy in guilt maybe for tomorrow
But I’m explaining it to someone who  
Doesn't know what drunk feels like
So they don’t need to worry about that.  
Anyway, page 40 of words, my words,  
Undiscovered, y'all should be so lucky,  
I swear I’m not cocky, just lonely in the pursuit
Of fun.

Write like a human and they'll understand
My heart is broken
Make it metaphorical, symbolistic, idealogical
Like a coocoo clock in the basement
Yes, good, not too basic, specific and imaginative
Underwear covering my face, my eyes where legs should be
No, you're off track, they don't understand
But it's the absurdity of it all
Yes but that's not poetry alone
Why can't it be, I want the words to be art
They are, even untethered

Thin lines open to a final destination

Horizontal trees cut days: clusters of  

warm. Bargain with our killers, delicately ask

What felt good in your lives?

Be more pleasant, they said, broaden your  

smile. The peace lies under your toes for

Dying arms to open. We cry into them;

Sprawling love builds in the touch,

The lines begin to dissipate

Please don’t say I didn’t change you;   you know you thought mammals were something quite different than they are. Like a bobcat in a swimming pool or someone’s grandmother in the backroom at church. There are things I do   and we do that mean things, all of which are true and understandable, but for you to think    there was nothing I did    within you    is an outrage because of all the things I did    for other people; like when the lamp wasn’t hanging from the ceiling and I gave    it light or when the kid on the baseball field, no he wasn’t    on the field, he was nearby, eating a fistful of pretzel, all of which is such unimportance. The kid was trying to catch    the ball, and like I said, mammals will do these kinds of things from time to time, in attempt to impact people    or their grandmothers (religious or atheists) or their families who may have never    loved them.    That is their own prerogative because some people are quite unlovable, but I promise you    I am not, I wear dresses and tennis shoes to the dentist sometimes when I want her    to think I am much more mysterious than I am    in reality because one of the least mysterious things in life is a person in love. I was    in fact a bit in love with you but you don’t think I changed    you and that changes everything    and also a bit is only a section or a freckle of something, like the nose on a donkey, or the tail as they say, or a rainbow that is inconveniently positioned ¾ of the way behind an apartment building that is a strange shade of brown with a terrible pop of color that gives   a bit   of umph. I must have, at least, changed you the way the ocean is    changed   by a man who fishes without a permit on a    salmon fishing boat; he continues to hunt and **** and unfriend all these perfectly kind gentlemanly fish in the water. He does, in fact, influence the tides as     a whole because one bit of change in something    sways the rest   in one way or another.

1                        as a                                               flower,  

        a child grew inside the                  tissue of her brain; hugging      

    and laughing at the nonsense          that has come over the past 15  

             years. her fairy wings were leotard pink. loving all there is  

                             to love, she grew to hate all the noise  

                    and punished pink matter for the lies it told the  

                            hollowness                   where she lived

                                     and                                  died.

Financially speaking, I am naked alone in bed waiting for my tan to dry.

Unpleasant pillowcases draining my account - Help Me  

Father, I need a hand with my back.

Intrinsically speaking, looked that one up, naturally, the opposite to the person I  

in this moment of uncertainty and smell

which God graced that loathly odor? Someone

did Aphrodite *****. Hera, hear me, I swear to never unbutton your blouse

in summer and I will not zipper your Onzie up  

in winter. Philosophically speaking, my skin will never dry

I will always need help getting unbuttoned,  

zippered, spread like honey, folded, misplaced, understood, and on

to the roof of that brown pump, whose bottle will never finish.  

Mentally, I feel finished in bed, not sensually.

Sexually, I feel itched, at least in the process of, a fox in the snow under branches  

of a tree only twigs they keep falling and scratching;

not hurting nudging the fox to do whatever it is to help the  

tan dry, or in the fox's case, its fur to stay on so he doesn’t bald

right before the winter, it needs its coat even if sometimes it is unnatural

or un-intrinsic (extrinsic).