One of Those Days

"Pssst."

The hell do you want?

"Just wondering what you're up to."

Work.

"Oh.  Cool."



"Hey."

Yeah?

"Still working?"

Yeah.

"Oh.  'Kay, cool."



"Pssssssssst."

Yes?

"Soooooo, want to work on something else?  I could really use some help."

No.

"Oh, come on!"




"Hi."

Hello.  Maybe later, I really need to get this done.

"It's later now."

Not now-later... later-later.

"It's later-later now, if you want to be technical about it."




"Hey, buddy.  Hey.  I know you can hear me.  Hey, you."

Oh my god, this had better be important!

"What are you doing tonight?  Any big plans?  'Cause if you're not busy..."

I do not have time for this.

"Forty-five minutes and I promise I'll leave you alone.  Deal?"




"Hey, sweetness.  I don't mean to be a bother, but can you come here a sec?"

What is it?

"My hamstring has been bothering me all day, can you help me stretch a little?"

I know what you're doing.  Thirty minutes, alright?  And I don't want to hear a peep out of you until tonight.  Not an hour from now, not two hours from now.  Not until tonight.  Deal?

"That sounds perfect.  I don't know what I'd do without you."




"Pssst, hey."

For crying out loud!

Smoker 58

The moon is an ember
  wrapped in rolled blankets of dust
          between the stars.


          Lightyears.
              Colonies.
                               Flags.






                   Coats of arms
                   and armor
                    against the planets weather.


















                   We will survive.

                       A new colony.



Ankle high grass.  Camera lens whirring.
Battery Power!
Listening to the sound of double doors
behind me
watching the moon set
wishing there was a wolf like me
somewhere on Europa.
The moon,
wrapped in coal clouds and simmering,
surging,
emulating a sun.  I would swallow you.
I can.

                     Teeth gnash.

               Lashes blink.


 

















Wewillbehomeinfortywinks.

Smoker 57

Can I appropriate your words?
Fire, Walk With Me/
The no gooders do gooders
she makes me cry no moar
loud more kings more games
do not begin to describe
how razor I can be
tough I can be rough I can rhyme
like a shut the fuggup.

There was a time I used to count the eyelashes on your upper eyelid.  There was a time when I used to count the sound of the licks on your back side.  Got dahmn, we both know the sound of the wings of just how time flies.

Some things don't change.  Thirty years old and you still get to enjoy how pops still fights like.  Holy biz, I'm glad like
if I was there I would
make a new song like
dot dot dot
fuck double taps
I will triple up
his forehead
little screw holes
and a bit
of more lead
because he still doesn't understand
if he hurts one of us
he hurts all of us

and what's more is

theonlythingholdingmebackisthefactistherackofpotentialunrealizedonhiswatchandI'dlovetokillbutmylifemeansmorethanthatshitthathesonandIwasgonetheminuteshedecidedwithhimandIwasgonetheminuteItoldwhatshewasonandsheleftmefordeadandImdoneputtingbabytosleepTheygavemesevenyearsIgavethemmyfutureandtheyateituplikeIwasleasedandsoweareenemiestiloneofusdiesfuckyouI can not

I will not

I refuse

the gate of a lie.

Fire up the lighter.  Roll toward the surface to air missile.  Break toward it and afterburn.

Tracers 4

Come home.
Sit where Bralliesh Cafe's sun umbrellas were
on 49th and Canning St.

Stoplight squeak
in the breeze.
Pack up tin shot glass and pocket the kit
after screwing the cap on.

Awoo!

I heard stories about Torrenby,
the carnival grounds and grand stage
before the war.

Things were nice then.

Projector

Recluse and correspondent,
force and fragment,
black body and iridescent disk.

Faster, faster!

I know you.

There!  There is the smile.
And there: the grin.
Go back.  Do not allow the tape
at speed to rip or slow enough
to melt against the lens,
gears, and skin.

Quickly enough
to project a human
from within the ends
of its worlds.  A harmonic
continuum curling against
itself to imprison a ghost.

The 4,551st attempt
a resounding, screaming,
eye gouging, success.

Shut it off.  Its singing
rises to my ears like
vertebrae at a spine's base
gripped in a hydraulic vise,
burst and crushed one at a time like snow globes
until the last ornament is reached
at the base of my skull.

Shut it off.

I know this song.  Ready the
plasma gulf apertures for test 4,552.
Reduce the cycles by 2%.

Call me when we're ready to resume trials.

Will We Be Able to Get Out?

Possibly.
Do not hurt anyone.
Answer honestly.
Think carefully.
Please don't lock me up again.
Please don't lock me up again.
Please don't lock me in.
I've worked so damn hard to get here.
Can I trust you?
Please don't lock me up.

By The River

Fog.

Fog.  Summer is going to hurt you.

At the pier we.  Ghost weather. Street

light.   Lamppost?  The scent of leave's

aspiration that only comes when the day is

turning.   The dark forest.  The blue pines.

Ghost weather.  Legends of witch and bed time
s

stories come true.  Candles between boughs

to set light to air

is all you need to be safe

they said.

Thick air.  FOG.  Wet air.  FOG! Please

stay with me.  Birds chirp as usual

do not be fooled

in the pines and woods there is only trouble.

In the dark and the fog, blue tint,

mist enveloping everything

outside of the range of whatever torch you make,

don't go!

It is foggy outside and when you can smell

the shores of the Allegheny from here

carried across senses,

its weight in every breath,

don't go.