thanksgiving

just unsewing my lips, in a lisp. sittin on jack's front porch, facing south i think.
the braveyard of the dead on the side of the hollow, evoking barrows and henges.
thre are so many birds in the sky here.
the quietness counterpointed by the singing wheels of visitors rolling by.
they made me feel like i'm going somewhere, sound as motion. i'm with
you here again, where we sat in cheap summer chairs, sharing outlets
and laptops, the tiles are still green, the children still laugh from the bedroom
behind me the amplifier turns red cuz you know what rust don't do.
the strings on the guitars are new. the a and the q are missing from this keyboard
but only the faces. the nexxus of reality is still possible, just push the unnamed pad...


life is too profound to be one big q & a.