last minute minutes

I.
The shepherd
Slumped standing
Amongst the leaves
Waving to the new life
Wrapped in the bark
And permanent
In standing
And permanent
In relationship
To the
Sky

II.
She begs venom
And the gravel groans
Furiously as her stockings
Stutter in mud
And her sense
Of what's up and what's down
Is breathless amongst
The winds of summer

III.
Let me lessen your load
The breathless simpleton heard
We're the feeble
We're the slow
We're the unoriginal dumb
We're caught in summer
Where stupid is believing
And the standing might
Outlast the sun

after 5 seconds, poof

I dreamt I wrote you

To paper

And your lines fell out of me

To paper

To life

And I made exist

And I forced you

To remembrance past conscious thought

And I opened my eyes

And I’m blank

At square

One

And I am out of luck

Until I find one more

One little

One more thought I

Can

Force open

Into sprawled

Winged

Tapestry

I dreamt I wove you

I dreamt I wrote you

I am now

Alone in dreaded silence of

Threaded words

And

Leaden flight

A freefall

I think they

Call it a hankering

In these parts

A hankering for

Weight

So that

Winds

Don’t make

Short work of

My

Memory

i've skinned it, now what

I DECIDE TO SIT. AND HEAR PINE. AND HEAR ARCTIC RUSH. AND HEAR IMPERCEPTIBLE. HEAR THE FOUR DAY SHIT RUMBLE IN MY STOMACH. HEAR THE BLOOD DRY ON MY BACK. HEAR THE CLARITY IN WILD UNFORGIVING

WILD

OPEN CALL

I ANSWER MY LAST CALL. TWO FISTS, DOUBLE FISTING THOSE TINY BOTTLES WE SWIPED FROM THE COCKPIT.

I DECIDE TO REST. AND HEAR WHAT I WANT TO HEAR. PINE. AND RUSH. AND THE SILENCE THAT FOLLOWS THE FINALITY OF ALL

BIG DECISIONS

I SIT AND LET SINK

LET SIT WHAT I WANT SINK

AND I

HEAR THE HOWL

OF WHAT I CHOSE TO OVERCOME JUST A MOMENT AGO

and it sinks and hits and infects

and I am shaking as I sit

and let the cold

and hunger

and the four day shit

and the slight buzz I’m feeling after these 4 bite size Patrons

AND FINALITY

as fur

and

FINALITY

as razor teeth

find me in what was supposed

to be my outcast moment

my outcast decision

my outcast finality

my outcast version of this

in which

I chose to sit

and rest

and wait for that

inevitable

realization that I’d

FUCK IT

AND DO IT

MYSELF

just

fine 

train fare might fair

The leaves cycle

As the air smells of snow

The track the track, theyre tricked alive

Past the rows of white pill boxes

Neatly stacked and pleasantly lifeless

One string of lights is all that they need

To make this gray racing bullet

Feel as if it is traveling

Through pulsing muscle and sinew

The leaves cycle

And fall and pile and sit

And sit

And sit

And taste of wet dirt if you were to taste one

But we are all too full to taste one more bite

Of air that smells of snow

And the days

To come

untitled

I watched a father watch his son, and explain to him what he saw

Ceilings people and food

The father tries to clean his boys face

"youre dirty, you're dirty," he says amidst squalls and wails

It all subsides

Save for the light in the fathers eyes

His pride

His fire

His sire lies in a grave

But he is here

In front of his world

Trying to clean the dirt and spittle

Too proud to get off at the stop he's supposed to 

report on something less or lesser

Good morning good afternoon good evening 

I'm trying to think of my kindergarten self and I just can't conjure him

I did it right

I'm here 

I'm still kicking and 

Still screaming

And still pissing

And still eating

And still talking till I'm 

Life as always

I did it right 

Salt set right

 incantations and the circles of shit

Failed again

I did it right

I clicked I clicked I clicked I clicked

Good afternoon friends 

Life as always

Failed again

But in ether or something less poetic maybe shade or dust or an unbearable humidity that siphons the clarity out of the air

Some moments 

are clear

Or memory of moments

Ga-I've

Ga-I've ga ga ga ga I've lost feeling in my tongue

Life as I know it

Life as always

Life as I’ve forgotten 

Not active

Not active 

I've not been active in forgetting 

No 

Not 

No 

Not vindictiveness 

I've stuck shucked sprung my leak as pickles and 2nd presidents are what play as pictures in this new quality of air

I'm John Adams stuck in a mason jar of other presidents as we wait in salt and garlic and vinegar and wait for history to forget what we actually did

untitled fridge work

if not on this patch, where to