Maybe I don’t have enough to fill these
days, I mean pages, I mean, I do that
bit a bit too much but continue to
hope my pen can cobble some minor
magic as this glamour lately is
sea ice in February as I fail
to get the cheese out cleaning another
dungeon as the prophecies foretold
and then a tune but so softly I
must pay close attention or they
are lost as the kingdom slowly
dissolves in thin smoke debt and need
but the dog seems to like it she
gets to go where she wants and when
Tag: smoke
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how much is willing clay how much
is smoke that will fade away and
I see her laugh and stroke the dog
and wish I had an eighth of that
and that I could see more clearly
but I don’t feel lonely at the
mall and love the wildflowers but
don’t know much about them and love
my wife but don’t know much about
her either I’m not even sure
where she lives these days and I guess
I must have had some at some point
but searching there’s just this television
and cardboard cutouts in the windows
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when have I ever but when have I
not but yes I’m also already bored withthis balloon that can’t hold air trees chopped
away for clammy conveniencehave I walked this far for a dead end
sometimes nothing stirs inside but a
wish for blindness or the old well and
endless falling but then what will comenext to hands that can hold nothing and
the nothing that can’t be held but stopwith that cloud of smoke somewhere around
here where there should be no green I meanit’s hard to talk about flowers just
now is that enough do you need more
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the proximate convulsion over and soon such nothing at all
the knot knowing must be a part apart from shifts and stumblings of a shuffling
ocean the sometime light from the tip of a pen or the bird song background
yet mornings honey blue and pink cotton candy with musings on beloved retail outlets so
again we try to caress and nail down some mostly smoke and threadbare wraith
and that’s all wet and good but those beloved clammy fevers know just enough to stay asleep until a honeysuckle smile
wandering sunlit sundress you see you lost seven moves ago
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before you drain the river smoke this limited-edition emotion
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dancing figures in smoke from the city of dry leaves in my chest
other animals 