Putting pen to paper, in a feverish attempt to catch the fish swimming around in his head. His keys are never far from the desk by his bed.

NOTICE: Do not pick up hitch hikers. Detention facility in area.

Burnt feet across sun heated rocks. No sandals to be found...his face contorts in pain. Could the past, present, and future all take place at the same time?!! We have been here before. Together we have passed under this bridge before. Lately you've been showing a nasty habit for weird lateral thinking...keep a sharp eye and ear. Don't let panic cause irrational behavior, take things in stride accept your fear. It's really not a bad thing unless it gets out of the fence. Running amuck, making things all tense. Bravery is being afraid, but doing what you need to do anyway... there's going to be fear. You don't need to worry about it. You're not in control. He is. ☝️✝️

The average person knows between 20,000 and 30,000 words.
~ and for Senor CG~
<>

infinite then the multiplicity of combinations,
and yet we use so few,
and the comforting ones,
we repeat unconsciously
for they apparently applicable
to the boo/hoo/who in Who Me?

messing about in poetry,
an excuse to betray ourselves
to a greater audience with
hints and provenances,
secret’s subtle
could mean
trouble

I have revealed more than
I could believe ~
not the drabfactoids
but the insights

that flesh my self~sketches,
you could ask me anything,
my answer simple and
insane~same!

if you explicitly explain
there is no fun in that,
but the clues writ large,
answering questions you
didn’t know to ask

plenty to hide, some too
well disguised

but the hints are clear enough,
to make sure you’re
asking the correct ones
so,
sorry apology
Senor Carlo
the doorknob to my spotlight clearly
visible
in the portrait of my preposterous
multi~nefarious words

no great reveal
no screaming squeal
for you to decrypt

still requires an
inning of
excavation digging,
for it’s in the over thousands of
psalms and prayers
and a few layabout
poems
who/hoo,
too*
(wink)

If I should die before morning,
while you live out dreams in your bed,
if I should die before morning,
while you produce acts in your head,
know in this moment, in sight of that morning,
A dreamer to weave from afar,
I thought of you in that moment this morning,
as death stole me from the place you still are,
and hope, in sky, like clouds throw shapes
shaped like hearts, like glass they break,
I kissed your head and looked again
once more my muse, my love, my friend
those dreams, on draughts, uplift away
on shooting stars a wish they say
I wish, once more, to you three words
they are hearts and lives not just nouns and verbs