Mens sana in copore sano
so they say
which these days is a worry
as the sedentary blur
sees a time-lapse
of my fattening *** shift
marginally on the sofa
while the pallor of my skin
makes corpses wince
and message u ok ***?

Given my increasingly potato shape
what state will my cabbage brain be
when they finally give the all clear?

When we are once again allowed near
I envision sitting with my primates
grunting fear as the brave one
reaches for the monolith

orchids, three days in the vase,
bent-stemmed and dropped heads hung;
the pollens filter the tabletop with
a coughed out dust across which
noon shade, interrupted by light, grows.
The shrinking water has stained the glass
to darken into a pool of brass and stench.
Above the vase a craze of tiny flies hover
like a troubled thought in a comic strip.

Still life may be silent, may be violent,
May be a green sight, may be a street light,
May be the nature's scent, or maybe it's cement,
May be moving, or maybe it's never evolving,
May be repeating, may be remaining,
Or maybe what's still is just an idyll
And life is not meant to feel,
Just to fill, fill, fill...
Until life's still.

A taxi drove past
at two in the morning,
blurring through the street lamp halo
painted on the sidewalk.

A click.
Flash frozen,
stuck speeding stationary,
clipping the spotlight.
And the night hanging off the lamp pole
does not appreciate
being caged away

Lousy with life
warm with haze
on walls, idols hang without any names

Dull with growth
bored as bloom
curtains, drab
a lifeless gloom

what was once the music, the life the dance
now is silence
the quiet trance

Like stones, words are stacked atop drawers
language it gathers
dust it falls

a pair of headphones with the mufflers missing
the wire that goes from said headphones to the computer
a ceramic pug in a red scarf containing tubes of paint
an ocarina that i picked up in a ghost town/tourist trap in california
a red cup for water during painting
a book called the artist's mentor
an adjustable lamp
wristbands a lover made for me
a book for savannah college of art and design featuring someone holding a large inflatable red ball on the cover
an incomplete abstract painting on canvas paper, slightly crumbled,
a box for the savannah college of art and design VR kit that they sent me
a book on writing
a book about color line and form in the visual arts
a red squishy ball inside a a fishnet containment, creating organic bulbous abscesses when squeezed
a book of poetry with a red cloth on the cover
a small packet of konpeito, a japanese sugar-based hard candy
a novelty necklace designed to resemble christmas lights, complete with glowing LEDs
a red colored pencil
a red marker
a red mechanical pencil
a gigantic anthology of american poetry i have yet to dive into
a packet of cherry jello