How are we going to do this?
Hold hands,
clap our hands
[thunderclap, worlds shut-
eyes open]
Waking up in a sun filled room
black cat's maw all a-mew and I felt,
who are you,
so naked, so old?
My legs and your legs in front of a TV set just days ago
made the whole of the Hamlet
swallow into sex and
boring flickers of a seeping love.
Together & Alone:
I take pills to get the mind shut down,
wondering how it ever wound up in the first place.
The process of sleep: a Jack in a box. The box,
what do I keep in that box?
My nuvaring, the head of state, a few thoughts and one
giant muscle that is always pulsing to close.
That is why I am a beam of winded sun,
or
[How are we going to do this]
the weather, unpredicted and irrational.
I am loving and kissing and I am so angry and I'm angry that I'm angry.
The person who taught me how to battle: forced me to armor-up too early,
is now my lesson in calm strength. I suppose I'll never know why inertia
hits the wrong the synapses. My footnote, my keynote.
I leave myself because I hit myself and I haven't found the strength to divorce the qualities that have control over my quality of life. If all goes alright, I'll be on a boat, in the ocean and peacefully exposed to what will consume me as an implosion. I can only go inward until I come around.
My new language, Paul Auster, red notebook?
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