in the hot and choking advance
of decisions incalculable and apathetic
utility comes to a sludgy stop.
in days where god dies
and those structures we’ve rested our thoughts on
leak out of our ears,
will you accompany me
to a beach-side sunrise
where it’s too cold, and your stomach hurts?
your normally smiling face may be made stern
confronting so much light-
and perhaps you’ll retreat into me.
what good are pearls, once strung?
with the myopic tremble
sprung from conjunctions
undulating in warm turns
and swimming down my throat like antimony,
let’s be frank
your eyelids will mark passionate calculus
in the framing and allure of paroxysm
(you can call it that)
but the limitless bounds of tomorrow
still won’t really matter much.
and the black of your eyeliner twisting
gnawing at the coals glowing calmly
in the center of your chest,
the ochre tones of your walls
the same as your un-seamed skin
how fast, i wonder, is 10 Hertz?
and does that really matter?
when’s 2 and two?
in a pink and fluffy chain of deuterium
active conglomerations of capitalism
smackin’ greenies ‘cross the ol’ Width times Height
think love is nothing!
but isn’t it nicer
you and me sitting here
drinking weevil poison
and lamenting how not dead we are?
the dream of a dream you can’t wake up from!
i don’t like those little things they give you
when you don’t make small talk correctly
little tiny glass beads
useless little things
why can’t you and i lift up above the clouds
and the salty stacks of meat in expensive eyewear
trying to look like expensive eyewear
will cook like zucchini
didn’t you say something to the effect
that inside man there is a wandering child
and inside the wandering child is
a grief-stricken smile, tired, resigned eyes?
despite it all
maybe because of it all
no, definitely because of it all
otherwise what is there–
maybe this is what the psychopath thinks
when he tries on people like hats
on cloudy, boring, midwestern days
when multiplication tables have lost their charm…