standstill fog, brackish

ahead of me, the ocean and sky are one
behind me, heavy metal backlight,
the sound of slapping
as if waves move against the boat i've left behind

air becomes sold, solid, the back door trojan
i vibrate against, ever more slowly.
are you laughing now? i miss my a's and q's
victim to the needles in the cat. i miss

a lost of things: lists, the will to make them, popup
advisors shakin me down. threes and the way they snicker.
the holes in my head expand in inverse proportion
to the duties i fulfill. is it the season change? have

we figured that stuff out yet? triangular balloon.
pneumatic lunatic. door closed on meaning-
tip of tale caught and cut off. then the punchline
which concerned purpose and the office parks of gnats.

but you seemed to be laughing. laughed. till i told you so/s became the dish of the day.why didn't you tell me\
so, mutherfucker? ah but what did you know then? suckling

pig with big hair, big dreams, big wampum. you eye
the spit with glee, eat another apple. you like to cut
into the middle of a carefully constructed market survey
and mow the ministry down. it comes back you know.
but i'd join you if i weren't so sharpless. or if you ever
gave me that knife i axed you for.


the cycle is on. nothing stays the same. i began with a mist
i'll end with a brick. in between, it's holding on
to things for a while. taste soot mingling on what
i call a tongue. think of steak. swallow ash.