Barbed wire always looks like sun shower glitter
when the sun is out.
Authorized personnel only
dotting the links in pocket square efficiency
with a dribble of regularity on top
to nudge without threat of death
suggested in scream tones.
The birds have no problem,
landing, gripping, hopping to and fro.
I do.
Watch the sun swim through
and pour itself into the grass and clouds.
If I had carpet gloves, maybe?
Carpet hands. Stone hands.
How little of a shit
am I for not mounting a raid?
Box cutter? Bolt cutter? Twin contrarotating saw!
Gas torch? Spoon? Fingernails? Let's go underground!
Shoot the links out with hyper accuracy.
Secret agent man! Double oh double oh.
A world wide tortoise towing a planet through space!
An aphid lands on my hand.
Walk quietly toward my wrist.
Sniff the sandwich crust still nibbled.
The weather's been alright lately.
The clouds interesting while taking lunch.
I've been told there are thing out there.
I don't buy it.
Everyone talks shit over the radio.
I don't buy it.
It always looks like new rain atop the fence. Glitter.
If I walk away, people will die. People I will not meet.
I believe it, mosquito. I believe it, dandelion. I believe it, clover.
At Hokr Landing, there is a fence that says
"authorized personnel only."
One of the best power stations the country has known.
I've seen one person working here, chimney swift.
Don't quote me on that.
Reversing sections of its grid
can turn her into a fusion device.
Have you seen a sunrise at midnight at the equator?
Leaving Hokr Station
never.
Winter would come early. The sun would still rise, but bumble bee,
all of the flowers would die if she ran unattended
and poisoned the troposphere and winds
like an oroboros's icy sigh.
All of us sleeping in her snow,
far worse than a sunrise bathing our beds in its soul
while we dream of a beach and a sea in the fields
inside the fences
at Hokr Landing Station
original works of parts
Update Drivers
I assume it is something like Entemanns donuts.
It is nice when the pastrys come around,
though impossible to live with.
I love to eat a woman's pelvis, all of the way around.
It is a very unique event down to the second,
but impossible to live with
on a steady diet. Explain what it is you love to do,
in light of what it is you love to do and can.
Not impossible to live with.
No one eats only cookies & milk and lives for long.
Get some sun. Prey day licked.
Impossible, no. Yes, to live with.
It is nice when the pastrys come around,
though impossible to live with.
I love to eat a woman's pelvis, all of the way around.
It is a very unique event down to the second,
but impossible to live with
on a steady diet. Explain what it is you love to do,
in light of what it is you love to do and can.
Not impossible to live with.
No one eats only cookies & milk and lives for long.
Get some sun. Prey day licked.
Impossible, no. Yes, to live with.
Bullet Time
The plate left fingertips months ago.
A moth beat its wings against window screen hours ago.
Seconds ago shower and towel whipped cat
after buffing skin until it reddened.
Weeks ago breaking codeine to sniff
just in case it could increase or break affect.
Seconds after toe nail clipping.
Spit splashing in the sink paste white
three days hours baskets full.
Twenty cigarette buts put out,
fished from stashes found snooped
neighbors watched making conversation.
Wreaths burned and pines too
in a fire two years gone and retinas on.
Eyelashes trained individually
each half minute, staring into the vanity mirror, tweezing.
Each week caressing my throat and
by the three thousandth mile on the seventh second
motion sickness starts to set.
Car door slams and stretch into a yawn
five days ago.
Change your shirt and reach into a closet full of ammunition
ten years old.
Fourteen days ago the mirror said "no" flatly.
Twelve hours before waking gasp.
Paint each fingernail in cross thatch blue
with perfect symmetry tomorrow
sleeping one hand out to dry in the a/c breeze.
Feet still on the fire escape to catch morning rays
before pictures
hours before decent and all hell breaks loose,
clutching firing explosive bolts
"where is the counter?"
Everything that should be marble
for a split of a split of a split second
is stone. Months ago.
All coming to a halt,
the plate breaks
in an odd number of triangles.
Do not mind
the fine grade
of the shards;
that no one will clean between your toes with tongue.
A moth beat its wings against window screen hours ago.
Seconds ago shower and towel whipped cat
after buffing skin until it reddened.
Weeks ago breaking codeine to sniff
just in case it could increase or break affect.
Seconds after toe nail clipping.
Spit splashing in the sink paste white
three days hours baskets full.
Twenty cigarette buts put out,
fished from stashes found snooped
neighbors watched making conversation.
Wreaths burned and pines too
in a fire two years gone and retinas on.
Eyelashes trained individually
each half minute, staring into the vanity mirror, tweezing.
Each week caressing my throat and
by the three thousandth mile on the seventh second
motion sickness starts to set.
Car door slams and stretch into a yawn
five days ago.
Change your shirt and reach into a closet full of ammunition
ten years old.
Fourteen days ago the mirror said "no" flatly.
Twelve hours before waking gasp.
Paint each fingernail in cross thatch blue
with perfect symmetry tomorrow
sleeping one hand out to dry in the a/c breeze.
Feet still on the fire escape to catch morning rays
before pictures
hours before decent and all hell breaks loose,
clutching firing explosive bolts
"where is the counter?"
Everything that should be marble
for a split of a split of a split second
is stone. Months ago.
All coming to a halt,
the plate breaks
in an odd number of triangles.
Do not mind
the fine grade
of the shards;
that no one will clean between your toes with tongue.
The Rain Keeps Going
Overcast and horrific. The humidity is murder between squalls down pour.
Another afternoon off of the Allegheny
where I wait for my phone to ring for a fishing trip.
It does not.
How good was the sex when thunder rolled and lightning struck.
Fingering my keys and wondering how long it would take to drive into your front door, parking pretty and spotless without a permit because I will not stay long and do not you worry your head.
Another afternoon off of the Allegheny with no fishing in sight;
no prospects, no free time, and no sense of humor.
How good would that trip have been, heels up on a windowsill, considering driving regardless.
I love you. I laud you. I will get loud for you. Overcast and horrific.
Easing into Monday. Feeling the land beforefeelingthelayofthemap. Wait?
Overcast and horrific. Humidity is murder.
August around a corner.
"Don't you wanna get some?"
"Let's do this!"
The rain keeps coming, penetrating Monday as a side experiment. It's not an adventure if it happens every day said a person to no one. Confucius said a lot of things, did he not?
I am aggressive. I am faulty. I am fingering my keys.
Another afternoon off of the Allegheny
where I wait for my phone to ring for a fishing trip.
It does not.
How good was the sex when thunder rolled and lightning struck.
Fingering my keys and wondering how long it would take to drive into your front door, parking pretty and spotless without a permit because I will not stay long and do not you worry your head.
Another afternoon off of the Allegheny with no fishing in sight;
no prospects, no free time, and no sense of humor.
How good would that trip have been, heels up on a windowsill, considering driving regardless.
I love you. I laud you. I will get loud for you. Overcast and horrific.
Easing into Monday. Feeling the land beforefeelingthelayofthemap. Wait?
Overcast and horrific. Humidity is murder.
August around a corner.
"Don't you wanna get some?"
"Let's do this!"
The rain keeps coming, penetrating Monday as a side experiment. It's not an adventure if it happens every day said a person to no one. Confucius said a lot of things, did he not?
I am aggressive. I am faulty. I am fingering my keys.
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