In My Window

perhaps we ought to feel more imaginative

if not simply to be so

perhaps I am less a bird or a fish and more - say- a lemon

or, maybe that's just what a lemon would want to believe

or, maybe it's just because I have a lemon

not a bird or a fish

perhaps it has come to pass

an old man's dream

an old man's dream

so many taxes

a sweetened, narcissistic stone

ours: the river

still alone

it's just a dream

stitched with seams of aerated plastics

what dreams leave behind

are these - no, those - memories

old friend

it's time to feel blood again

freely

some sticks

in the sky

rhyzotomous shadows

in the sun, hi

butter me up

look with me

I Know What It's Like

I would love

-threadbare-

to focus on your problems

if you could just...focus

    on your problems

and do the same

    and

have more interesting

...problems

the fungus moves freely!

ha. no

it actually doesn't

get over yourself

I don't regret dying

but saying so doesn't stop it from happening

(I'm not talking about dying anymore)

maybe it's a feeling

[before the bomb

or, the assumption thereof]

photographs

with the sun in my eyes

of you

not knowing where this is going

(with) the sun behind

Naivete

truly

I'm writing all the time

the distance belongs

I do believe in heaven

the distance applies

the (sun) has died and I haven't

how will I find you

without eyes

be nearby

can you deny

(there is no one

in the pool

in Tennessee

in December)

-not that we are-

that it feels like 

we are at the center

-perhaps intrinsically-

(in all probability)

(can you deny

probability is stained by actuality?)

(and yes, that is what makes it probability,

but what if it wasn't?)

(I was about to do something)

I Should Live Inside

The intention of adolescence 

And it's love consequence

Always at risk of unraveling

Like the wasted opportunity

Of the perfect hour

And sticky, squeaky shoes

Echoing long past their power

Make it hard to sleep

Sometimes

"It's just perfect though

To have someone else's will.

A found puzzle piece, you know,

if you will...but even that can't save you."

We're cozy, no adverbs

Sitting with neglected silence

Until the sun comes up

Silently as it went

My shadow's worth wavers

And wonders where we're going next

"What a dangerous thing to do - 

How dangerous the crossroads

Of the head and heart,"

Silently

Anyway - or, anyways -

Answers saunter, as always

In no sensible way

But for pride

All Inclusive

I should know you better than that
After acres of summers spent
After a funny hospital
After all those interiors
Entering the miles ahead jumbled
More miles than actual
And you? Yes, I did take that deep breathe
We will be painted, I guess
Without any awkward fight
Rising above staying down
The amber finch
Stealthily whispers the future
Just louder than the silence
Of this poem
Unfortunately in some bird language
(Finch, likely)
And we continue, silent
Heaven is somewhere
Around here
With only the emotions available
(Or, all the emotions available-
Or, available to all emotions available-
Or, I really can't remember,
But maybe something about an all-inclusive
Cruise?)
Oh, never mind
It's just a finch
In my dreams recently
Wonder if I could be pardoned?
It's just a flutter
But so much can happen
"It's all relative"
"Yeah, nice fabric"
(Each note struck upon the peak
Of the thingy with the crustaceany
Beak of the ambery finch
Fired with the echoing intensity of
kindergarten, times two.)

Either Way

Was the rest just practice, or is this, or is it all?

Of course it could be, but I don't believe in the postiche paradox

I'll just roll my shoulders therapeutically and choose the first

"I've contacted The Department of Subconcious 

Bridge Maintencance and they're coming next Tuesday. 

I'll be properly unavailable for some time, but of course

I'll remind you when we get closer. Anyway. 

Is there something else on your mind? I'm not trying to be too

Forward, but I had bit of déjà vu earlier. Heart shaped clouds
Were being plumply pumped from the sugar factory right into
What seemed to be zippy winds straight from Norway.
You can't tell me that doesn't mean anything, but we can discuss
It later if you wish. I suppose that's what this meeting is all about,
After all."

Do you recall the most satisfying sentence you've ever read?
Historically - in ones life - that could be considered significant.
Either way, I hope this counts as an effort. "I assure you,
These memories aren't a dream."

captivation

If a man were unsure of his insides
how could he truly just drift away?
"Just grab something?"
The wild stain of the spinning wheel
again and again, it's all what we want-
(or something) miles of the intimate illusions
of eternity, perplexities, cubicles, cuticles...

I appreciate your ambition, but is
any conversation quite that improvable?

Captivation's charming convulsions:
("I'm sorry, but I seem not to care.")
no native love of fire
no cynical salted sunlight
shy sunbasked chameleons perspiring enchantingly
high-spirited winged artichokes
have seemingly cracked the code of time
and have - in all good consciousness -
become a salty happy hour appetizer

all rationality aside, would you rather just not meet?
all those boys want to do is twirl your hair,
I assure you; you simply do not want to end up
in love with vacancy, certainly not pregnant with vacancy

Nothing, compared to the gaps
between the fingers of your outstretched hand,
silhouetting the sky, the sun, the moon,
the chandelier
those clouds are metaphorical, sugar

In darkness, death - with only raw almonds and jazz -
created time, and time - with nothing but darkness
and muffled jazz - created life (possibly out of frustration),
to muffle the muffled jazz, and salt the entirety of perception.

remembrances: girls night

      dearest friend:
ah life...you know?
it's just like one of those good sneezes!
      you know?
I mean, draw the curtains
let the brassy velvet curtains brush your face
the anxious sunshine creates a captain
      of your slipping shadow
that caramel breeze breezes your scarf
breathe...look at me, you're starved
      absolutely
phew. well this has been a mediocre turnout
with that orange camel-like odor
odd. see you next week
      john

geological seasons

over here

after the beginning of feeling

like when I think of you "hey!"

dead memories stay dead blooming

heaven is no longer hunting reason

nix the tidy teleological prism not musing

demons in the back of the freezer dreaming

unexpected season of blinging bells binging

well, I was just thinking that it's nice

poplar

how nice! the handsome devil chirps
(looking for a way out, I wonder)
little fallow fellow, following the window
do you need an extension?
we all have our deadlines
hollow business, harmonious death
tucked under a pillow, hidden alone

enough, enough
actually, enough

how are you, my nostalgic heather breeze
ripened equation, enthusiastic as a hiccup
or snow, just being snow

you peeled the rind for me
kindly, kindly, off the brie
oh! that's plastic. erase that
how tedious of thee!
erase that.
blueberries too!                 absolutely
I'm positively the opposite of snoring
poplar, if I were a tree                truly

Honeypocket

Is it wild, honeypocket?
It's something, it's been supposed
Look at the dandelion:
there is so much preparation
involved
The instant gratification
of the bluestone sky
prims the petals
and pleats the parts
alike, of the cuteboys
and the deadgirls alike

The reflection of the common contemporary accretion
is acrimonious at best, complete canorous bedizenment
The veins are all too tendrilled and unilingual

In all likelihood, the caffeine-crash is going
to knock me right out. Just say "Cimarron!"
with some zest

I'm in the corner-
Oh heavens-
We're matching.

sifting the sun into the future, perfuming the suitor, looming the future

it might be over soon
notice/cherish - the broken constellation
you've walked in my dreams
now what?

"red lips"
hrm.
slender embrace
merrily, away

sunup!
I watched her, while drinking tea
riding her bicycle into the sea
it made me sad, and want a pretzel

I threw a stone into her window
but it was my window
and it was actually just a pebble anyway

what's it like, to be someone else?
"it's like drinking whiskey,
when you were expecting tea."
I see.
how do you know?
"have you never done acid?"
I have't, no,

lipstick, today?
smiles
I can make whatever promises
becomes diaphanous

nice is innumerable
kind is green, bright but not too bright
smears are just smears,
smudges and smears

is there beauty in brokenness
or just beauty, and brokenness
here, let me stop the rain for you
I'll see you tomorrow