Part I
My body never prepared to run out of air
celebrate it?
I said Send.
I said it again and again. Send.
the world's loneliest flipping machine
withering from your obtusity.
I'm sclerotic.
Yes, yes that's it.
I want to stir you
strike you into soup.
I'll observe the dictionary,
every word will flow from me to you.
Flip, flip off the diver's board,
Blank and Blank by the shore
Color it in, out, up, down
I'm sclerotic.
Remember this, need this
counting people all in pairs:
I saw everything through sixteen vision,
bleary, misted with vanilla yous.
Soft skinned, little girls, hot and milds between their teeth
I don't hunt but I could.
Autumnal again and I'm just repetition
speaking of repressed rage.
Let us analyze the handwriting of every
colleague, drop out, ghost buster,
Coffee house inspired.
I'm sclerotic.
I'm walking through the forest and
you're not there.
Part II
I write because I'll die
I die, I die, I diee.
It's been too long since I went swinging
Missing my pour of moon to the tip top
of my new ceramic mugs.
It's all up for traps
the reindeer, the telltales, the chlorine.
Hyperextended among the cruel cats, where are the cool cats?
REVERSE back to nail polish
I got manicures as a little girl
Staring at my hair now
every shaved bit on my leg is its own waterfall. Hah.
I cry for my beauty
I was told I was wrong with
highlighters, colored ads,
illuminated in the eyes of old dogs.
Take a gulp,
I did and I walked
for every moment I regretted.
I walked.
Childish foolish acts, crimeful commitments.
I said Send. Send.
She said you might not like me but to never fret
you love me.
I'm walking in a tunnel
(Where's the light?)
and you're not there.
Part III**
This is the beginning
of a low-budget film, black and white
this part is when the audience yells
"Someone fall in love already!"
I think there is something truly remarkable about me
(and you)
and the boy who cried wolf and
probably other people
too
I don't want my words to dissipate or fall
into space
disappear in the inners of the web.
I want them to creep in through the crevices
speak to the many as they
walk and see and notice.
I find a strange comfort in swinging at night in
an empty park
and a intriguing mystery the first time someone sighs my name.
I'm swinging in the park and
you're not there.
