Song for a Dissonant Parting

A new place of
Nestled starkness
Few marks for walls
Attempting recognition
Though chaotic
Unpersoning anger
Pounds upon them
To flatten out spots
For mirrors.

There
Take notes
My conversations
And tics and joys
Awkward displays
Epiphanic smoke
Puffing puffing its
Rough fragrance
From hollow sparks
Halo of smog
No core felt or seen
When one passes through.

He packed up
Oblivious strife
Within vastness
Of no conclusion
Stale answers left
In the twitter of pidgeons.

Discord Discord gone away.

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Interrogation At 1:18 AM

It is in my room
It and everything was _alien
Familiar crowding uninvited
My bed their focus

I am upon a pyre
Or carried now?
A sterile table
Clean clean clean
Uncomfortably so for me

They tell me I am -mistaken-
And -misunderstood-
Vaguely shaking their heads
Its not all - together

My head shakes too

Anxiously
I lie.
I sleep
and they stay
________With me.

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Fine, how are you?

The perfect ecstatic moment
Leaves me by way of inexact sounds
Not an infinite point
I can pin myself to
There is a hold-there--i see
I can -maybe- grasp

Everywhere: and it cannot see me
Overflowing from me
I hide from it
The serene eternity I am fearful
I am fearful the slightest-
Movement will shatter

My sight is commanded
The black and varied altar on the page
There is only one line
One single line
That is-can-must be read
Fills and rests in my vision entire

Linger on and
The moment has been.
How are you?

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Sunday Afternoon (With Work To Be Done)

My heels barely touch the ground
I point them down to scrape the asphalt
As I glide down towards the lake.
We see the light glowing
From the field off to the side.
We hop down as to begin
Picking dandelions
That seep into our beings
Coloring us our fingers
With golden prints
We move on shortly
Aware of how little we picked
Only when we see the yellow patch still shines
With the same bright alluring whimsy
As when we stopped.

At that first stop we crashed into one another
We said we did it on purpose
To remember We're Mortal.
And laughs were had.

And the next batch is just as affable
Inviting us to pick and soon
Fingers yellow Arms red
Knees green we move on again
With strained backs but
Feeling its wonderful.

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It Was Fun

It was fun
And you're a cool person
But I think that it would be rude
Of me to keep this going.

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Overservations- Sitting Upright In Bed

The hinges on my closet doorway
Are unburdened by the weight of doors
It opens up the room but
They flap loudly wildly
When a breeze comes in.
The air stagnates otherwise
So I can live with the sound.
I should write a letter tomorrow

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