the weight of capitals

---------------------------------------
over there, off
in the distance of getting
things done, we're having
this conversation.

life moves thru me like sand.
possiblities turn into spiders
whose legs i'd crush if i weren't so
squeamish. over and over it rises
this non thing called hope.
then it sinks. helium and boron.


a disappearance is what i make of it
watching the glittery past
of a slug shining in the sun.
the moments of a graveyard
how they linger
into eterntiy. what a concept
she said to the beans that hericlitus
was planting in the pots
that lined the windowsill. let's get started

on the long road to incompatibility
let's see what earnesty buys. but
let's do it together. on the other hand

he doesnt' see things that way. a blending-
an incestuous mix of manacle and mentor.
mending and riptide. unctious offerings refused.
















&


yes he is
your younger you
eyes bright with future
and unknowns. an angel kissed
his memories, they turn
into songs becoming poems.

so many lives to flow into as the legume
unfurls zygote to human. eat me
says the chad. become me. i'm dying.
















*

















and why persist? really. the quiet of a bedroom
calls to me. the comfort of feathers i never knew
cushioning my neck , which aches, from the tension
of loving too much, too soon, too often, too too hey2



















()






an unexamined life sat upon the shelf.
she liked the label. pulled it from its spot-
hole flow. can opener carbonation. tying
one last string to the outband symphonies
playing in her ear, the zone, the emptied out ballooning
she opens the can. tri glyceride temptations,
sweet brown syrupy beads. sustenance.
she pulls on the bread basket, dislodges a piece
pours them on. adds a slice. smushes the contents.
zips the files. bites.
















*


a
i
a
m
n
o
t
r
e
a
l
l
e
e
t
h
i
s
way















*


sinecure and sinequanon. everyone thinks
of specialties and fantasies. the breathless kiss.
the hiding you. yes you. reality tv star
make a bow, tie it. it holds your head
on your shoulders, holds travel
against a map of contentment and typos.
semi autonomous landscapes barrel past
the training window of your mind. when time
began to jigsaw together the last of our dreams
came upon us. everyone got what they carelessly wanted.
and tired of it. and missed it and grieved it and bargained
it for positive
electrochemical reactions.




*















last nite the wind blew thru my veins
and i was not
alone
but not with you, not with flesh.
i felt intimate whistling in my hollows.
an emptiness made beautiful
by an inevitability even
angels know will birth
from the one who is becoming ex.