Sometimes we don’t need reasons to be cruel, we just make them up.
Sometimes we fear the things that feel good. I get depressed before a
vacation even begins because I know it’ll be over. I’ve been on countless
planes and every one has landed. I get out and walk around under
sunglasses so nobody can see my tangerine eyes. I put on a beanie
when the weather turns mild. I’m a wild teenager in a grey suit.
I’ve been to Beirut in a dream, never ever wrote a poem I didn’t
at first see. I might be a touch crazy, but it’s a gentle touch.
I’m woozy because I am.
Sometimes I wish I was from Australia so I could dance upside down.
There’s an upside to everything, said somebody who’s never been on
the other side, the other rope, the letter carrier, carrying nothing but
an empty bag. Your lobotomy came up with nothing, you might as well
move to Japan. There’s a sandwich bag full of cat poop by the door.
Everything can burn if enough heat is applied to it. But these words I rinse away won’t catch fire in this spiraling drain. They are just notes from a lonely subway
violin. They’re just liquid Indians in the last tee pee, sometimes I wonder how you see me. Like a cartoon Sunday morning charcoal hiccup, come from down under with a thunderbolt, a smile wedge between teeth set at 68 degrees. Just like cool room temperature.
My art might be starving, but I’m eating better than ever. Two steaks a night. The mightiest of highest mistakes. My eyes are blue but you’ll never know, my room is lit by a scented candle from CVS. I try to write poetry but these days I can’t stay awake to realize that I don’t feel alright. My eyes are blue, but they never truly close. My heart is soft serve. My heart is also a porcupine.
The hesitation is what will kill us. I’ve been dead for three days. But I’m not Jesus so I’m not sure if I’m coming back. And I’ve already decorated the cave.
I had a flip phone once, a pager too. I got married to the West Coast.
Listening to that song you listened to so long ago. But still not singing along.
My favorite band.
And when they come to town you don’t even go to see them anymore.
There’s little to do in the hinterlands. The day I saw a clown car on the street was the best day of my life. They just kept getting out, one clown after another. Two clowns. Three clowns. I think I sat there in awe, like looking at a waterfall, and like a waterfall, a clown car got old fast too.
I sit in awe of everything, especially you, and how furious everything burns.