I am signaling home. I am climbing through the cotton candy.
I am eating through the maps. I am out of seasons.
I am counting stars with a laser pointer
while you’re braiding the dog’s hair
and the winter night spirals
My liquid talents prevail over my instinctual attraction to buffoonery.
It’s amazing how my humpback floats.
My heart sings through the keyboard.
I’m lying in a patch of grass, newspapers blowing in a tiny tornado.
Like a camera set. Like a photo with a filter. Looking at you looking at me.
Wrapped up in technological psychological bandages.
This is all so unreal, it’s the only way we can stand it.
Half-dead is the only way to live these days.
Sending mad texts at each other.
There’s something tidal going on. I don’t know what it is, but it’s goddamn seismic. The wave can crash in either direction. Madness has its own momentum. All we can do is scream at the TV and hope our neighbors hear us.
And hope that they don’t hate us.
Because it’s up to us…
Up to us to sing our songs…
It’s up to us to make merry in the face of this ego and hate.
Spaghetti-O weightless intellect. I am not listening.
This is not a joke.
Meet me on Jupiter’s moon, you know the one.
Let’s live like our dreams are underneath us.
Cacophony catapult I laugh at your thunder bolt.
Let me pin every silvery star to your lacy dress.
Summer somersaults — I fought dragon farts.
Can I be stupid and stupid at the same time?
Like falling in love with you but being so
broken I never saw who you were.
Wearing a haze of wayward days’ blue blur.
Everybody is painting pictures of small things
There’s so much noise in the world,
it’s all a game of making it go away.
Find a little picnic basket to bring to the riot.
The skyline plunging necklines.
When she kisses my lips my mind goes quiet.
See the sky-stained clouds dappled migraine,
Saturday afternoon brunch-whispering crush.
I got your bleeding vest, your bloody beak.
See the clock drip plastic fire rings.
Put ’em on your fingers for all to see.
We sleight-of-hand our way to the promise land.
Wave down yellow cabs with leather gloves.
We are the wings the birds prey over.
Laughing gas mask clown nose
subverted birthday cake. Let’s
all celebrate the loudest whisper.
Swinging on the windmill.
The stinging photographic flash
on the bulb of your nose.
Singing in the gin mill.
(everybody’s singing about old things)
The only way to survive
is to crash into the waves.
This flashlight shoots out 77 LED beams.
We are demystified by air conditioners.
Passing sunblock in front of the green screen.