a bed for my poems

Flipping through the cable channels,
nothing good is ever on
this late.


Commercials
Infomercials
Sexy girls in my area
Televangelist illusionists praying with clenched fists...


This is exactly why we stream-
to find what we like
even in the dark.

[Nowayout]

The dark in like light
The dark is a way to return
So it must be also Light.



First post... nice.

To feel the ease of feeling at home,
no groans from the tennis shoe topped table
propping waite against the tightrope I've been
slouching on


and yes the sun casts a shadow,
one to cool off under.


We stutter to emphasize the point.
We empathize with these moments.
I won't hold you on it.
only human and all,


buttoned unevenly with stitches iching
out of the seams.
I mean there's always that space between
what we say and what we're thinking.
Never mean literal,
swear the attitude is integral.
All part of the process.
Confess to caring ears, learn to steer
towards my own reflection.
It's progress.


It's progress.

I don't really remember writing that one but it was in my notes

[Nowayout]

Life is progress at work we would hope...

If birth is a curse then
life is a plight &
death is a guess.

Hypothesis perpetually unproven,
regardless of education.
The duration unsated, frustrated by the fix.
In the midst
of the madness,
twists fate with the sadness,
grips grace like a magnet.
Make out like a bandit.

I'm withdrawing with
drawing with charcoal, withdrawn
yawning with dawn's width.

'And how does that make you feel?'
as in
and how!

Does that make you feel?

Alive, very much so.

One moment
messy and another
missing the point.
One moment
bawling and another
bowling 301.
One moment
depressed and another
pressing flowers between pages
scribbled with notes for folks
who might never care to read them.

Oh well.
It makes me feel...

but how?

idk.

There's a ring that floats a soft glow
around the full moon
in tonight's lull.

I thank her for the light.

Wish I could tell time
what to do,
where to go.
Guess I'm slow

to warm up.
Sun's already hung in a sky
across town.

Group delusions
Community hallucinations
Shared psychosis
Folie à deux

A simulation
with 7 billion hands on the controller.
Right
Left
Up
Down
Forward
Foreword
Backwards
Backwoods
Still, we stand.
Upright
Uptight
Slouch a little toward either side.

Pause.