I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired
love and hate, I love and hate
locked gates pock faces bright
ways towards
days unblemished by despair
we’re nowhere here
near helpless
near hopeful
lack and waste
my honor at the door scraping fingernails bloody raw on concrete passion
oh fashion!
me some new pants
spiderwebs and comfrey leaves
rose thorns and nettles and petals petals
pedaling into the moonrise where
I may stand enshrined
in my mind’s eye at least for a day
this day
our daily weight
in worry
but if we hurry…
scurrying ants on the window sill
the stillness of my lover’s sleeping breath hurling requests at the gods like hailstones
buckets of dreams
cougars and wolves
and butterfly wings
like silk
like flaming naphtha in spirals around ourselves we dance
to be alive and yearning
turning how many revolutions around which of my suns?
heeding which revelations?
I need rest?
I need the rest of my soul to discern a distinction between love and hate
I’m gonna get you sucka!!
like bombs over bags of groceries
cogs in a gear
transmission: Drive
Forwards
thru fields of dreams
fields of crosses
yoga at Flanders
I’m 29 years old and don’t know who I am
I can’t find myself on the tv screen or
in the magazine racks
and my intentions no wise reside in such ammunition
anyways,
experts say
child plays at dawn on the seashore
don’t eat the fish or weeds
we need supplements
we need implements to display our creativity
I make much more that dollars and babies
but it gets hazy under my hood
they’re cutting down the woods
I am not a carpenter
I am not a man
I am not a consumer
I just am
with no plan
tryna stay afloat
in a river of filthy magic
where beauty is tragic