Maybe the things I said
have resonated more,
out of the smoke cloud.
Lingering dendrites, dead matter
bridges flowers and the bones of boars
archers shooting ropes with claws
that probably have a name
a four year old knows.
Why and what
good a poem is if the writer
doesn’t know the right words?
The top of a paw of a cougar’s hand. Ask the child how to
communicate like that again.
Sadness glamorized and pity
where it doesn’t belong.
Pages uncovered
with notes from a diary meant for others.
Secrets formed
in order that they may be overheard.
Tall bathrobe and voices parrying
dodging and thinking about what to
say.
Conversation sinking in a bay treacherous .
Blue cliffs overlooking and murky
water
and rocks with moss on them.
Bones of sailors having leaned
on their knee and having pounded
a table with poker chips on it.
I couldn’t understand a word he
was saying and I wasn’t even
listening.
Stunted breathing, breakthroughs
the second time around.
Jokes re-told and religious competition,
the same conclusion
Globalism and nationalist protestors
lined up at Taco Bell.
Railroading sports utility vehicles in Portland.
The breath
and the
tip to the server listed in denominations
Dot matrices and Verifones.
Ingenico, I hadn’t heard that.
That’s what I was thinking
Better seats and Sprites with caffeine in it
The tea at a Vietnamese restaurant
The place across the street with the
average curry and the forgotten
explanation hurried thoughts crossed
over a puddle dampened by a
shoe and boots, the water spilling under.
Frustrations
labored and
crossed out word and
conscious edits and over-thoughts
decision and crying
in the hallway and faces in a window.
“I just wanna
go back to my room!” and letters
that will never be
written and
patients without prescriptions, tickets at a station.
Dreams of Russia, other frustrations, bricks
concrete arches and platforms
Lists and shattered
knuckles fights every five years
Lines and pens that
don’t fit
and overlong brunches and
saying the same thing.
Handing someone your trash and thick brush
and upper body muscles
passing instead of turning back
Pulled up the side of the waterfall and that lagoon in the sea
by the bay, emphasis
Repetition underwire dead semen has
chattered on to sailors turning their heads.
Have you
had your hearing checked
and not projecting grating phrases and
concrete inclines that aren’t machines
and no one walks on them and
books in the marketplace and
a cross, arm connected to foot, Xmas
and atheists talking
about religion and no one laughing and previews in silence,
a laugh before the credits roll.
A refill in the lobby
and questions in the lobby and new Star Wars movies.
And scripts handed out medicine
like candy w/candy dimes and dozens
and layers of clothes in
the summer and articles
and prepositions. A conversation with
pointed words and interruptions, taken like so many
sing-a-long’s,
and “Singapore because
I’ve been there.” Why’s wherefore’s
who-dun-it’s and pre-meditated
explanations. Overt criticisms and
stopping the path of an eyelid
Bulging eyes orbiting, and
moonlight in some desert I’ve never
been to that I’ve seen a documentary on
Packages left by the door of
a similar address to the
neighbor with the same name, pictures taken down off the wall and rhymes
with no antecedent
preserved in
a jar with a rubber band and a
cheese cloth that will never be
used again. Exceptions and
exaggerations and a swing wrapped
twice around the top with an S-hook
or maybe 2 S-hooks together. Pens
and hands with bends and lessons
and lines and styles expressing and lessons
and lines and styles expressing themselves
like a balloon on a strand of hair
One cracker I forgot the name of and in a
bag of pretzels and conversation
taken seriously an empty row of
seats double spaced narrative. threads in
a knot and rosaries in a comb.
Horses, peasants, nipples, star-
flake uncomfortable pen. Exposed
and claws trying
to trip a pig and sugar for
breakfast.
These are unrelated things
of which I have said too much and never need to be said again.
