I realized I had to leave immediately and was fairly sure I knew my way to the station and it was so good to see you after so long though I was irritated because I knew I would have to borrow money for the train.
As we puzzled through narrow brown brick streets and spitting rain a hummingbird stole the cash you gave me flew around us in fast circles then leisurely landed on my chest and released what turned out to be a poorly made counterfeit.
my boss, a collector of insomniacs walks the halls on stilts, examines every coffee cup, for progress and, avoids the stairs today is Friday, and the small dog always by her side, will have its nails cut, when we hear the yelping we instinctively check our 401(k)s, and count the leaves of the cypress, as our greatest asset, in a moment the weekend will, begin and the dreams we share, shift to images of pirate ships, chained to a monstrous wave of silver fish
in the forest where they planned that nasty surprise tiny flowers try to take over the world fish look surprised and sure he was never one to
and what could we do but invite him if we were going to the summer house as you waited with the light straight down from the clouds in planks and the ducks looking like they’ve lived through worse though
the party that night with everyone still feeling a bit raw from the afternoon staring into their drinks waiting for someone to mention going to bed so we could say oh yes what a good idea me too
morning clean a free breeze bruises still there but in soft light something about omelets better coffee perhaps a walk in that park we’ve been meaning all through the day carry a small splinter that sparkles later in the meeting we easily talk about our supposed subject matter though the shadow of the looms large we still laugh cobble jokes from horrible headlines and yes I saw your post and clicked the appropriate button but tomorrow I will unfollow you
a fish through the hands will write a list of future accomplishments gulp the last tepid tea and remember I’m somehow the narrator though my training is in watch repair once a thriving industry in days when many people were killed by and these days you don’t know who to believe when you take your pants off but that’s the way it’s always been at least when you climb that tree to look at the moon you can just remember the sound of the first sparrow through her curls
build a little temple in the well of the clavicle golden light honey fig bread wine maybe this book will run through the clouds we see tending to the is it only animals who live on the mountain
storm in the forecast & all these chapped lips for the best adverbs to fry up this or any other burger so why does it have to fill up the whole page ants build cities with mouths as small as we could wish for
where a tooth unrecognized as rotten should worms long to chew as though a star covered in gauze in the forest shout what from the shadow of a younger life of a beneath centipedes cry and yes still these empty hands in the snow
just the normal kind of socially sanctioned stupid. Nothing vicious. Just someone who’s looking for. Sure, I could give you some advice, but you’d never take me seriously with this haircut and the auction’s about to end. That’s the thing about our planet at this late stage—outbid again—damn. What’s a person have to do to—what was I saying? Something about how it sticks in your eye and can sometimes catch the light just right & a rainbow—what’s that? No, you’d never make it. They watch our every move
With the light fading, you need to know how shallow it is.
Some limbs grow back if cut and stars paint the black with exuberant death but here it’s squirrels eating pizza.
The wet grass between your toes may produce a giggle, but water up to your knees?
The trick is to keep biting the rope as they pull you from the volcano, rather than laugh, which will be your first impulse.
early morning planning wind scurries waiting for coffee to kick the air to clear on the lookout for the best conjugations the cut is healing nicely as violets and others I can’t name invade the running commentary in moments of quiet the thought makes it all crumble so we remain vigilant it takes years to articulate at least that’s what it says on the business card we hand out a little too freely though after all why not what was buried looks quite different when they show up with the picks and shovels and yes I hear it too the whole house about to speak some long-abandoned language
There is no time to stretch but plenty of time to ache today Bowie’s birthday longing for those bonus tracks now lost to eternity but once freely given with the purchase of The Man Who Sold the World or Scary Monsters and I think that if we slow down so we’re just crawling through the toothpaste of our days then just maybe we’d notice the truly strange small things disappearing around the corner with that look in their eyes daring us to follow