Wednesday, April 15, 2015


Let the cod flowers know
this is my life and they are happy with it.
Light up the light with Can.
All hail those who can make this muck shine.
From a room gone wobbly, to the palm
pressed firmly on the bed. My Foster Grants,
my Blues Blockers, my Webelos.
This is called incessant knocking, from what I gather.
Here and there permission is given
so you feel like a mutant when I don't sleep.
The body and mind make a mushy quad.
Make attempts to flatten the head out
and become artless and beveled. When that bill
hits you're going to feel like a million dollars.
I just don't twist the air much anymore
because it is getting done on its own.
Head home. I realized the day would go along
a certain way. I knew I would act a certain way
with a deadbolt. Copper wire jutting from his ankle
and jaw. She is everywhere. I am here.


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