sun things

i can't stand the time

the sun sets as i wait and listen

i navigate to the locations where you should be

and i wait to hear the things you tell me

that you haven't already told me

which i think you have

but will you tell me again? 

today

the first break
the first today
              adding spaces that aren't asked for
stumbling over sidewalk sprinkles and
taboo inuendo
watching the vagabonds slurp down tepid vapor
in their wait for incommunicado transit
piling it all in the hopes of tossing it out
10 minutes locked out 
i sip the slurp that gets me to the next step
and isn't that what we all want

dooor

the old walls are here
we cleaned them with as-seen-on-tv
cleaner

                a spit shine would suffice

 when the couch is cleared i'll spray and scrub the foam
kick up dust and show it who's boss 

emptying

how far down does the glass go
how high up does the draw bridge go?
can we still jump over
 

overdrive until we can't drive anymore
peaches will be peaches when the tunes are finished, and the tunes begin again

it's all water

tap water ripples waves upon the broader sea

tears come down as i watch the fairy boats

crossing through the starlit canvas of night

smoke and mirrors play
fay folk songs of long ago

forgotten by our modern age 

planck length

i will wander
i will wonder
we will sit upon this fence, this precipice
we will observe the objects which cannot be seen
without the aid of manufactured vision
trails with no end
space which does not exist
Feynman isn't here to explain, and we don't need it anyway

a poem for Glynnis

            🖕🏻

game

pushing codes through plastic boxes
playground structures just up ahead,
 just out of reach in the mist
i can create my own mist
        not myst
        myst sucks
one boot apparently cures all ills

the youth

teenagers are walking to the bus stop in the rain to go to high school those sad little shits

fuzzy

amber light drifts as the birds sing

tears well up as the wind sings, no rain

the porch holds steady

sciurus holds its toungue and scampers frantically

title

maybe it's cold out

maybe a pizza

maybe a towel

maybe a maybe

maybe maybe maybe 

the north

         it is dark

and there are no stars(48°45N}

the light is on in that window over there

we can talk about other things

when you have the time

Paddy told me, and when Paddy tells you

          you listen

noodles boiling

 I'm going to drape myself over you

           like so much lasagna

too late

 when the door locks

and the snore across the room amplifies

do your thoughts turn in a particular way?

the lamp is on

the noodles are boiling

and there are apparently 46 more days, as far as i can remember, and they've made it difficult to type on a phone

 I'm typing this on a phone, BTW

belt

Orion, and his got damn belt, are trying to hide

                         but we won't let them

ash falls

the sign blinks

I don't remember what it says(I think it says HERALD)

the rain, the cold

all should burn into memory, like hydrogen being crushed by gravity

the birds are asleep now, as they should be

   it's 1:39am

go to bed idiots, and my hands are cold

bench

supported by the concrete evidence of the sidewalk

meandering through fire and story

standing on the broad face of a bench

speaking the cellular voice and staring at the concrete car parade. the cycle and the damned and the walk by pedestrians, stuck, and not looking to stare

punctuation goes sideways and all thoughts are passed in this liminal space shrouded in what we can only hope is what we thought we wanted and on and on and on

the sun has set. the song has been sung 

 

for you

twigs grow long
the birds know
             I saw this place through a window far above
shoes meet streets
beats meet beats
the strings sang songs
             and I had words
and now I'd like to go back, and say those words again