Like brickwork.
Laying on the pieces:
this shirt, this jacket,
this ego…
this maniac.

Come to me, naked like a child.
Squish my bones.
Hijack my mind.
Fly me to a foreign place,
and ransom off my pretty face.

Binary codes explode…
I release my breath,
watch it fog and dissolve
in the vast midnight cold.
Each particle turning
into an icicle.

Christmas cards on the mantle.
Crustaceans screaming in the pot.
Black and white movies on the TV.
The dogs digging holes in the yard.
My mind marbling…

The birds warble, the wind blows scarves
and coats and opens secret drawers; I stand
in the steam of this dream moving forward,
a man trying to hold on to my hat and courage.

My bibs and scabs.
Books and Instagrams.
This hurtling, hurting dance.
This prophetic meeting of chance.
Coming together in the ether,
the dead and the breathers,
the unreal and the believers.

Mix-and-match mishmash.


One thought on “Brickwork

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