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Kitbag of Words Jan 2018
an incredible incite (the ruthless volatility of words)

~for L.B.~

the only place of solitaire solitude in the city accompanies me
like a faithful country dog that doesn’t know better to be afraid,
of moving cars, sleepless night terrors and unscripted “dreams”

where image and words say come “follow me” with ruthlessness and no cloying come hither looks and
see and take and recall with perfect midnight blue sky clarity for

the incredible incite of credible insight

surfacing unexpectedly in a intemperate pool of slushy snow,
that will be an ice storm of painful confrontations with naked
inner truths standing outside in sunny sub zero playground

there is great risk.  volatility gone wild. when the speed
governor is removed and you live at 100 mph on local streets,
when the merest slight of an accidental incidental touch
transforms into an incite incident and hell is the threat
that you will not die today and your own words will ruthless
pull from the nerve places where sensible and sensual cannot
coexist and this write this script is a poetical insight inside, an
incredible incite and what your spilling is spaghetti sauce blood
when you left your brain on broil, instead of the faking daily of
slow simmering ineffectual intellectual words that just don’t
cut the crap. your addiction complete, you cannot live without
the incredible incite, the ruthless volatility of words,
otherwise why rough write what you see
in the blind
beyond the blind


1/6/18 5:03am
Twelfth Night, Act 1, Scene 5
“I took great pains to study and ’tis poetical
Kitbag of Words Sep 2018
wallet watch testicles spectacles
cash cell phone (yes the inshallah one)
bottle of water hairbrush with remaining vanity attached,
personal technology baggie (earbuds, variety of charging cords etc.)
loose change in order to drop & annoy yourself
sunglasses! and something else...mmm
pocket tissues!

skin and bone, all flavors and multilayers,
a language of music only you hear,
the pumping station internal,
the antacid pills after that burrito;
and that strangely named thang called
libido? (lipidio?)

your teeth your smile, your shyest guile,
to catch that lady’s hopefully reciprocated pearly whites delight,
pen and pad to record being a sad and mad good lad,
a swiss army knife if the feeling tube should breakdown,
your tiny little bottles of inspiration perspiration and perspective,
oops, unlabeled?
uh oh

the list to do and the
list to add to the to do list
and good heavens,
a serious writing utensil
for serious thoughts
and the last but should be first,
the house keys!!

to do it all again tomorrow

**** forgetting something!

oh yeah!

a kiss upon thy cheek before you go...

— The End —