Ruin and beauty.

Nothing feels real.
But everything is so real


      I can barely
      stand it.







They say the body accepts any kind of sorrow,
that our ancestors lay down on their stomachs
in school hallways, as children they lay down
like matches waiting for a nuclear fire.


Young.

Don’t confuse what I say with honesty.

You said to me, "it's a long,
lonely ride sometimes."

I thought, "for who?"







Or maybe
you were just referring to
the ferry ride.

People like us.

There are more like us. All over the world
There are confused people, who can't remember
The name of their dog when they wake up, and people
Who love God but can't remember where

He was when they went to sleep. It's
All right. The world cleanses itself this way.
A wrong number occurs to you in the middle
Of the night, you dial it, it rings just in time

To save the house. And the second-story man
Gets the wrong address, where the insomniac lives,
And he's lonely , and they talk, and the thief
Goes back to college. Even in graduate school,

You can wander into the wrong classroom,
And hear great poems lovingly spoken
By the wrong professor. And you find your soul
And greatness has a defender, and even in death you're safe.


Bly.







Requiescat
in pace.

Let's minus today.

It is one of those,
where everything
is just

not good.







My Bible as Literature teacher asked me
what I needed
to make my day
better,

and I said

"a hot dog
wrapped
in bacon."

Negative space.

You are dreamt of
every night.
And when I hear certain songs
I imagine
you singing them.

Dancing to the wrong theme song.

Few and far between
I persuade myself into thinking
this is what I want
and then realize
it is entirely the opposite
of what I want.





Then I am indifferent for a while
and may be sad for a moment.


But,
I will always continue to party.

Thoughts are flooding.

I fear that some
do not know
how to speak
any longer.