mouse games

the kettle's on
dishes washed
cuppa jo in the a. m. whilst
standing & tipping at my new
desk ,  the top
of a chiffarobe i'm so tall i spill
into mountains i'm so small i fit into seas

but where's my coffee now, ay?

i think that standing may be the way
i'll have to write now. though honestly
the pain's still here. fuck now what do i do?
move this silly netbook from tip to top?

i spose that could be arrranged except
the key board. i'd write a review of this netbook
but i have nothing to compare it to.
i mean it's  fine as far operations
just a bit glitchy with chat sometimes but
the keyboard and the mouse are too close
and if i use the netbook keys i continually
backspace which really messes
with the flow. so on top of shooting hip pain
and dull knife ankle throb
i have to contend with wildly
divergent placements of the cursor
not where i want to be but where
the machine places it when my thumb
comes to close the ultra sensitive mouse
so, it's either an outboard mouse
or a standard keyboard. thing is there's no way
to disable the netbook mouse so
it's keys. now my i'm tired of standing so
what do i do?

move to the desk, sit on the ball for a while.

it's bouncity. like tigger.































*



but what i wanted to say was the sunrise
this morning was spectacular i watched it
from inside the arrow, a vector moving east
then south toward alleviation. my morning
ibuprofen kicks in just about the turn
into the winn dixie parking lot
to avoid the light , rounding to the stop
sing which i ignore, the arrow turns into simple
ache. outside clears, mist on the big yellow
school bus a fairy trolley.

after the drop, when i've shifted the clutch
at least a hundred times, endured the grinding
of ligament and the stretching of bone
to the point of null, i can watch the huge oak
on the curve move into the pastel wakening
where autos are purposeful fireflies
settling  clusters of morning and movement and order.

hat's nt really how it is
i'm frustrated with language's limitations
how scent and touch can't be imbued
how sight is only in the head how sound mingles
with happening, the garbage scow's moaning
brakes: voices from my lumbar.  this is where punctuation
becomes a useful tool. a way to introduce nuance
and precision into what otherwise can be multiplicity.


















































*


now let's talk about you. always a you
in my life, even when no one's there.


you smile and say you're like my younger sister.
this bothers me. it's not exactly what i want to hear
but i don't think i want to hear i love you either.
so what's my problem? oh , i thought
this might be about you but no,
my problem is why am i not good enough
to love?  that hasn't gone away , why
is it no one wants to be wtih me can't stop
thinking bout me the way
i am about you?
huh?






you and i are so much alike and you and i are so much
different. this is why we belong together.
or could but see i'm not
your ideal so she is out there waiting for you
to dive passionately into the deep.
go now, find her. stop wasting your time with me.
sure, pleasure is hard
to leave but come on, what stasis
it brings. no drive. just come back for more
pleasure.pleasure. put the mind on hold.


you are reading a people's history of the united states.
you are coming to terms with the implications of your trade.
you are buffing up and mellowing out, gettin that florida tan.
paradise doesn't call, she seeps into your skin and sings
you a lullybye as she pulls you into her swamp roots
and you become the water in her synapse, the tannin in her tea.




i have to work now. i won't be thinking of you
i'll be thinking of beam splitters and peel back tape
the ache in my ankle the spit in my spine.
;etting sensation thwart the thoughts
that used to bring me
to tears