reams of sponsored

narrowing focus, hyperventalated masks
make triumphant appearance at protests
now let's have a law. there's no reason
for us to be less than we were then

unless you count aging. which i have to.
time collects its tolls even as i write.

read stuff from six years ago.
wow, i was on a roll. 2008 babee.
it seems when i hit fifty, the wall came down
the lights went out, the cliches moved in
and built a whole damn new wall.
fuck that. i wanna tear it down again.
but all i have left to build with is stale
rubble and bent piping. and i keep
losing all that whaddaya callit?
vocabulary
that i used to know. at the drop .
seems someone put out a sneak and destroy
directive. i'm the stooge gotta write it out.
insularity's the main culprit. i just
don't get out that much anymore
so the imagery of younger days
is the best i got. the pings of workshop
have silenced and i can't seem to get into
the new modality. so,
THIS is what all that aging talk is about.
shit man, and didn't i think i'd be
all about dancing with the void. seems
the void has two left feet. or juggles
like a three year old or just doesn't care
to dance, never did. i'm not buying it
but it's a sponsored message anyway.








you told me he said poetry
is way to make the day write.
paraphrasing as usual. talking
to phantoms as required. so i want
to make this day before i arrive.
when i look out my window i see
suburbia on the cheap. thank god
quietness is not a premium.
my small curve of the bayou
inhabited by mostly working stiffs
but next door marj has her fits
when the moon scars the sky.
she's stopped calling the cops since
the kids left though.
in a little while i'll interact
with traffic, punch a time clock,
cough my way through commerce
manufacturing itself. my day varies
in that it's always some problem to solve.
not unlike mostly life. so it feels real enough
but the canned laughter is set too loud


and here you come