life
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An intruder in the garden, two steps by two steps. We are alone but only for the brief periodbetween one hue of the sky to another. The sun sets too soonfor any work to be done and we are home again Waiting for the minute hand to lay itself on twelve Twelve handsTwelve bodies Twelve
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Perhaps the trick to this is not to come into the experience expecting to walk out of it somehow more clever, with better hair or a more slender body. After all everything’s a trick of the mind, really, even the arbitrary flip-flop coin-flip box-office-crashing rotten-tomatoes-smashing nature of good and bad, because what’s really good at
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Stressland stressland stressland stressland Children memorising endless numbersland Unpublished mental health statisticsland No such thing exists as a poverty lineland Stressland stressland stressland stresslandLaws and statutes lining the sidewalkland Houses so tall they swallow in shadowland Fall in and/or jump out of an airplaneland Stressland stressland stressland stresslandWhere the points don’t matter but actually they
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hope is this ladder you build for yourself as you’re climbing it into heaven / every rung is a bone pulled from your own spine / so delicate that a strong wind could send you toppling into hell / hope is too much for me / sometimes the moreI climb the more I lose track
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No mercy for the zealots, no mercy for those with their eyes shut and their hands over their ears rocking in their chairs over and over, no mercy for those who pray but do not practice, no mercy for false lovers and those who decide based on convenience, no mercy for those who engage in
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Walking down the city boardwalk I am in pursuit of a greater evening. It is a miracle and a privilege to be alive and doing nothing at all. I commiserate and I conversate with the crowds of nobody relevant. Sometimes I let words unentangle their tongues in my pockets. My hands are at home there
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It is a miracle for people to love each other, in spite of the fact that people are people. We are so minute and small in this ocean of want. How we part like clouds nobody watches.Is there beauty in what’s unknown?I’m sitting at a cafe, alone, watching filled-out city buses run to death. Heads
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If two sameselves make a paradox, then so is my birth;one roll of the die with infinite sides.I oscillate between possibilitieslike a speck of dustcaught in vision. A child of coincidence, one branch of Yggdrasil, born to yearn for fruit. I’d like to reconfirm my own existence, ensure that I was some other unknown in
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it is the waking that is the hardest. the first step in sleep deprivation: you learn you miss dreaming of holes, the spaces between lines, the gap between the train and platform. you dream of ways in which to die, how the train brushes against your feet, the space just big enough for your thigh.
ugly stage 