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 i,ve a link to gravel.  found so much nat ural there.

but its not mine to steal. 

this was.

the stock guy was here today or
"investment analyst" he's always got
bags under his eyes, hair progessively
greyer, thinner, year to year and he says what
is your retirement vision the undersides
of overpasses, a tent, a grocery cart full
of possessions, some of which may be mine the discards
society proffers for the vulture
my totem bird because from far away they look
so graceful, riding the air currents
hawkish, wings tensed and curved , that effortless
gyre from which they can spot
roadkill for miles .

this 2

the pen is weary, stucknub, frankenbulge clicker pressure
ink pounds inside, rupture 
immanent. the pen, weary, 
clatters to a pristine sheet 
dreams of words to come.

but remember these? titles for all my lost poems....

falling from one life to another

maybe time leaves a stain before it passes.

i had to leave, had to go

to the temple of 2 much, riddles sewn tight

to my lips.

sometimes you make me weep, or that thing

closest to it. 

if i give you a belly

 full of butterflies will you...

there you see?

how i cannot give unconditionally?

the garden's all thistles, fingers

at the tip of my worlds, dissecting 

with a bone scalpel and poison ivy anesthetic.

we have learned to love like gaza

and fuck like the resistence.

 amnesia is the enemy

I want to remember
everything.