of bad posture

and reckoning

i think not

i got set free

thank god

i got set free

one more day alive

uncool

breathing in the elmed-car-lined neighborhood air

while

poets smoke

The Bible Sold Lots, Didn’t It?

The Bible Sold Lots, Didn’t It?

ooops

who wrote that one

not me

pill mountains and

scary me did

i just wanted to build something huge

instead i built something scary

and tall

and the only thing that tore it down

was showing it to somebody

anger and all

fucked eyes

L M N O P damnit

now i am something i can live inside

instead of me

living inside me

like i was a city

or a growing thing on those pills

pill trees

raining down click clack heart attack patter feet

then

slow slow slow slow slow slowing down into the

cold feet bed

man

what the cat ate killed all kinds of ideas

about grace

not a parakeet named that either

but

a face

i think about my turning the wheel

this red car past the store we are in now

this life

flier

wow

and i go, all southern inside voice

“i got a copilot

a woman

all the time,

i kiss her bottom lip when she joke smiles

lying there in the forever nook

unafraid of love all of a sudden

and i am all like

let’s fly this thing together—”

a face

bigger than my problem mountains

than my city i rung up

from the front desk of the settled-down masted

ship and

i sang all loud like a drunk warbling in tennis shoes

and shorts and shiny beads

honda-ready burbling

i wrote this book and it was just scary

the kid says “it’s giving me nightmares”

and i know

it won’t matter

until he gets a headache

bigger than that

and

maybe he might

build something

now

out of disappointment

fingers crossed

the bible sold lots, didn’t it

and

who wrote that one

Repeat

Repeat

etc.

repeat

repeat

repeat

Rock gets covered by paper, right?

Scissors cut paper, right? How many

fingers is that one?

Mirror reflects light catches paper

on fire, right?

How many fingers is that

if

the words inside said

“Rock gets covered by paper, right?

Scissors cut paper, right? How many

fingers is that one?

Mirror reflects light catches paper

on fire, right?

How many fingers is that

if

the words inside said”

repeat

repeat

repeat

etc.

Our Dreams Went South

Our Dreams Went South

our dreams went south

big kid

silent to the melody

again

the sound

of our dreams

and

to the words

a test drum pattern lands on his nose

this butterfly bum

er,

me

and all i know is

all i know is that

maybe

maybe from the mouth down

maybe

maybe that was supposed to be you

wearing those curtain rod–yellow rose of texas scarfs

and

muttering to yourself like you were your own lover

half drunk