arcs

Sticks, when they fell, danced like leaves
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
it has a way of filling up time
and imparting something if not
direction
then osmosis.

a float in a sea of consciousness
jellyfish inn at the out bar


and the leaves llike air


in the virtual distance were battles and the texts
of empire. the music suitably background
but filling. as if ceasar carried an orchestra into carthage.
a sublimation of fighter jets and car bombs.
keeping the rabble in pablum reserve.
what to do with all these boy babies we've bred?
we know what to do with the women.




in the real distance commercial
properties developing under jetwash and bracken.
pick up a jewel-by-the sea for a song. register
under the dark clouds , while waiting for a giant rat
to come lumbering up and dispense stairs to a hammock
on his back. climb aboard, it's party time.
china and the years of the reds.
google sized fries and do you want an edit with that?
isnidious insiduous the pot warms.














*



so where to find relief?
in an examination? choose one
a
b
c
dilleneate dilletant, show your adherence to novelty.
smoke your pack a day and porcinely proclaim
my new rain forest a success the day before
the mountain slides down taking all those brand new
roots with it. the ghosts were dancing around the fire
pit all last year. didn't you see them in the evening
mists, eating rootstallk, chewing nodes? glad to have
you join us and i wipe the mud from my eyes.
we are here together where all the closed books go.
ah the langoliers. how cliche. how yesterday. ashes.
but the mud, as it worked its way like thick phlemg
into my nostrils then my lungs, an eboal quick pneumonia
began to soothe me. i always knew the way home
might be painful, but this was like a warm cave sloshing
over me, just don't fight it dn't panic
then i woke up here
you can let me go again
i've shed the shell














***







in reality it's sundae afternoon, sliding like a bad lover
into monday. cool grips, the sky is suitably nappable.
i want to wash my greasy hair in a long hot shower,
shave all my pits, climb into bed again, see what desire
pulls out of thin skin. all my obligations are met for
the nonce. what dreams might this day hold?


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