...accidental sail...

busted up

the charts

(the winds fill it up)

(the waster begins wander)

crafted out for rent

shorter sea side

than the charted

course we had set

but we will get there

none-the-less

(sway left)

(stray left)

...not a poem, a complaint...

Last night, at around 2am,

August 5th,

I had five great quatrains

sitting on my screen,

not intended to be a blog or anything,

more intended for a crafted poem

and they were really good             you know,

when you push the chair back from 

the desk and go "How the fuck did I do that?"

and then 

I hit something. 

And then I lost it.

And then I searched for it for the next hour.

And I could not find it. And now, I am really

pissed about this. You would be too if you 

saw them. 

(needed to get that out there...)

...housecleaning...

this 

vacuum 

sucks (...)

(good

this place

is filthy)

(...)

...coin star...

when do you panic

when  the money runs out

           the water runs dry

          the damn nearly bursts

           the lump in your throat

doesn't fill me 

with confidence

...pant...

it is hot as fuck

and you wear pants

because you are a hipster

and complain about it

like we should care

(Satomi, you are the smartest

woman in indie rock)

...three dog night...

no

I will not sing Joy

to the World

or talk of a bullfrog

but the dog's barking

at the car door slams

and the scurrying howl

that translates to

"where are you?!?!?!"

forces me to keep them

assured that it will

be a short short night

and a long long weekend

(for Shea, Buddy, and Chester)

...range of motion...

want to experience 

sadness and happiness

all at once?

Tell someone

who doesn't love you

anymore to have

a happy birthday

and really mean it

while watching 

Tim, Eric, and Zach

advertise for Absolut

and you'll cry

and you won't know

exactly why

that is

...blue sky bitter...

inland

the shore birds find

unfamiliar ground

and greet it without

hesitation because

the seasons have shifted

like the taste

and acidity of the air

forced by our hand

...take me to the river...

in a blink

you came and went

back on your infamous

stroll through the trail

and frolic on the Delaware

when the sounds of things

natural beckons the toads

and creatures splashing

two more animals

on the path and in the camp

two more animals

feeling at home

in the shade

of the raised nook

above the river

that I took you to

and that you take

with me

..co-dependence day...

the nation celebrates

independence and I sit here

in the dark loathing it

(mine, not the nation's)

realizing how desperate

the situation has become

and just how dependent

upon you I am 

(once again, not the nation)

...wishing it away...

got to go to

the store to buy more

ham even though

you don't eat ham

but crave it like god

damn chocolate 

and you redirect

your energies to avoid

feeling the guilt

that I know you feel

and can see you 

in my head

wishing it away

...broke...

feel broken

feel nothing really

substantial

to provide

a coin a phrase

or a button

to put on your

shirt that I'd sell

but the words

here are not 

the words

there or the words

that they want

to buy

...lips ink..

similar to singing

she mimes the words

to the song

getting them 

all wrong

and knowing

that I'm watching

she laughs away

the blank lyrics

to avoid blushing

...ringtone...

no phone

no phone

I just want to be alone

today

(that is such bullshit)

...sad but truth...

in the dream I had

in Plattsburgh back in 1996, 

George Carlin appeared as a god, 

said that all I needed to be happy

was this honesty that most

mortals are afraid of

and that the fears that I had

up to that point

would no longer be

and he was right

(thank you, George)

...all for not...

jumping the gate

and dashing for the aisle 

I got free for a moment

lost it regained it

and lost it again

(damn security)

...one of one...

how many times

have we written about phone calls

or lines that didn't connect

like the ones in this poem

or the ones in the conversations

I have with myself

that are recorded 

on my friend's machines

This is the vacancy

that is lurking

when you don't want it to

this is the consumption

of thought 

the rumble of the stomach

when one's solitude

becomes their worst allergen

...tripping over the metaphorical shoelace...

in the whole place

nothing can beam forward

or jolt out of place

safe and secure

like the arms 

of the lover

or the assuredness

of the knot

tied tightly

...like a kid in a 128 mile per hour rocket...

the g-forces here 

are measured 

as "gee" forces

and the pure thrill

of a kid learning

how quickly one can 

overcome one's fears

you don't get a chance

to be scared when the ride

lasts a few seconds

(to the kid in the green t-shirt that was scared shitless

to ride Kingda Ka rollercoaster but came back

with a huge shit-eatin' grin on his face) 

...mid-state...

the power came back

at 2:45 in the morning

but I was already

dreaming that it

had been on for longer

...this heat...

it was so hot

that I thought you would melt

your tiny tiny figure

melting like a figurine

on the pool deck

but luckily 

we kept our cool

and composed figures

in the water trails

with our fingers

on the side of the pool

that would vanish 

quicker than sand 

paintings in wind 

...spector spectrum...

in the lightning storm

I saw the color you talked 

about the night before

and you are right

I cannot name it

nor did I actually

see it long enough

to name it

...food-less for thought...

(the stomach) (pains come) 

(from) (the fear)

(that things aren't)

(as) (they seem)

(in my head)

(it) (gets) (so) (bad)

(that it is) (like

being really) (sick)

(when illness) (isn't)

(really) (real)

(and) (the spaces)

(for those thoughts)

(to reverberate)

(in my head)

(increases with each

and every day)

(bouncing) (back

and) (forth 

echoing) (because

there) (is nothing

to stop) (the sounds

...new day's decision...

there is nothing automatic

about love or polls

there is no consensus

when it comes to politics

or relationships

of a more personal nature

you have your meetings

and your conversations

you have appointments

and joyrides

but we will never

fully agree when it comes

to who we believe 

killed our sense of faith

and the idea that 

we actually think

we have a say 

in any of our decisions

...2:20 of nice...

nice chat

nice chat

good good kitty 

we can talk

if you want to

or as long

     as long

nice chat 

nice signal strength

nice night

nice level

(I never ever use the word "nice")

(stare at it, it doesn't look, well...nice)

(that was nice though)

(the two hours and twenty minutes)

(of nice)

...the annual...

this year

we failed to blossom

due to the temperatures

and temperaments

the lack of rain

the lack of warmth

the lack of spring-like support

always bouncing back

after the cold cold days

the bulbs were planted

too deep and the roots

had already been

detached and frayed

for far too long

...red birds and brits...

alive with a voice

inside of the head

and the trees bow

chattering as they cheer

on the fact

that somebody is 

making you laugh

and that body is me

stepping out

into the finally warm night

...delayed reaction...

is there an absence 

when you wake?

that terror at night,

a reaction

to what you have lost

not what you

expect to lose?

is there anything

we can do 

without the delayed reaction?

is there a missing

line, poem,

complete entity

lost in this delay?

...false representations of real life on a memory card...

finding the battery charger

was a curse in disguise;

now, I am forced 

to look at those images

and forced to make decisions

as quickly as yours was made

to hit delete.

...clouds come down...

clouds come down

and get off the sky's back

already get it over with already

down come clouds

...pop lines and empty tables...

how to fight loneliness

smile all the time

--JT

Where does one

go to eat

alone 

on a Friday

night when

the present tense

singular is only

a pretext for

this solitude?

All I can do 

is visit pop lines 

and empty tables

and have to stop 

listening to those songs 

(I don't want to stop 

but you 

are in all of them)

...ready to bolt...

there is no where to go

and there is always somewhere

to go tonight but the winds

they are expecting will howl

and you will be busy

taking care of things

and I will always want

to be going somewhere

ready to bolt anywhere

with you

...Cee-lo Reiter...

I don’t have any friends at all
Cause I have nothing in common with ya’ll
So who’s gonna catch me if I fall
My backs always against the wall

I don’t have anything to say
I want everything to go my way
Shut up mom it is not OK
I’m alone almost every day

But it’s cool (it’s cool)
It could be better (could be better)
I don’t care (I don’t care)
Whatever (whatever)

Lalalalalalala

Went to my counselor bout how I feel
Everyone agrees I could use some help
I love my girl more than I love myself
She’s going steady with someone else

I don’t know what else to do
Said fuck me, well fuck you too
I know it sounds real sad but true
Being alone is nothing new

But it’s cool (it’s cool)
It could be better (could be better)
I don’t care (I don’t care) …huh
Whatever (whatever)

lalalalalalalala


("Whatever" lyircs are from Gnarls Barkley's "The Odd Couple")

...even if you don't...

I'll keep looking

at you because

you told me to

and the music

we listen to

is an act

of willingness

of unification

and we shall

keep on listening

...you are pretty amazing...

for putting up with our shit

the children of the world

would like to thank

you for all your hard and tireless

efforts considering we have

hardly treated you the way

that we should have

but we love you

we really do




(happy mother's day)

...hope you are well...

I hope you are well

but I guess you are

because you haven't

talked to me

which means

that you are ok

(I still don't understand)

...deja Turnpike view...

on the ride home

two trucks kissed

and parted and the scary

part was that I saw

this before and didn't

heed the danger

they parted and kept

control gliding beside me

off to their charted exit

...damn yankees...

at the game tonight

Jaba blew the lead


with one swift kick

just like I did with you


lost the lead

by not delivering


the right pitch

and this may be the season


for "lasts":

last time in this stadium


last time in this house

the last last kiss this


just like the game

we kissed it goodbye


just like the fans

I am bitter about the loss

...short poets are epically sad and if not careful, lose their game...

peculiar reading:

lost in the space:

of my head:

(Where are you?

I have no one to talk to

and feel wanted in front of)

peculiar social maladjustments:

the guy standing in the bar:

alone: unsure of what to do

with his hands, his eyes:

I didn't even get to see:

Anne read: Only heard:

Through the poor PA:

At the back of the bar:

I sat in a chair faced:

the wrong way:

looked at this girl:

then at this other:

and didn't know:

what to do:

Do I keep looking?

She's looking back.

Do I keep looking?

What the fuck:

has become of this:

petty petty poet:

in this bar:

full of poets?

...doubting it all...

so quickly

you turn to other's arms

and I understand

that you need arms

detest solitude

but to know mine were

too short and that you

can find the same comfort

everywhere

is discomforting.


Just remember this:

You turn around

and someone is always

there. That is what

you have created.

When you need arms,

they are there.


When I turn around

they are not.

When I turn around

its just me turning around

and the lack

of compassion

in this

truly leaves me

doubting it all.

...lost birds and dogs...

the dog barks at the bird

in the rain

next to the garage door


the bird

flies away in the rain

into the trees


the man

with the dog

looks lost


he is staring

off into space

wondering


did the bark

or the vibration

send the bird away?

...really, go away...

when will he go away

really

(her version)

...go away...

when will it go away

...home at last...

a big day I'm sure.

I am worried, but confident.

Ones heart takes comfort

in the scenes of the familiar:

the dog, the cat, the yard.

I am sure seeing this

would heal my heart, too.

Take care of that little girl.

Take care of that little girl.

...calls your name in the nighttime...

do you know

how hard it is

to not call

you?

...the big joke...

with all of it

nothing was said enough

and everything was said

too much

and so the big joke

in the matter

was that all we did

was talk and talk

and the punchline

was literal, not

the traditional,

comedic sense

(self deprecation

not the depreciation

of one at the hand of the other);

the punchline

was four years long.

The realization, when

it comes to you,

will stick like a punch.

a punch line.

Sinker,

sunk.

...passed over...

uh, I know its an easy pun

(tis a tradition in the joke

of the reformed)

Call me Moshe

call me

...dizzy deck...

I asked them

was I really out?

Someone said

"hell yeah, hell fucking yeah."

Class dismissed.

...this is...

this is a fire:

it will end things.

Oxygen, for instance.


this is a nightmare:

it will fake endings.

Falling, for example.


this is codery:

this yes when no is meant.

Closing it all in.


this is open:

it will stay open:

Hoping, and such.

...minus...

2

minus

1

leaves

2

lonely

1s

...bullets over Bloomfield...

one shot after another

you kept firing

but at least the aim

was true

It's just a shame

you know

each one pierces

the other

as if no one

were even standing

in front of you

as if you never

even took aim

(I'm afraid to

know what else

you have hiding

in that chamber)

...return to sender...

this is what I have learned:

that the heart is more

powerful than the brain.

Think about all the innate

services of the heart:

blood flow and pressure

pumping and palpitating.

The message sent

from the brain is that

something is not right,

that someone is not able

to use the beat the same way we

are. This fear that the message

does not get sent.

But, this is thegreatest

fear: endings,

of poems, lives,

pulses, us.

this is the worst

feeling I have

ever had

...just Hackensack...

do they drive

faster because

this is a hospital parking lot

or is it

that this is

just HackensacK?

Why are there

so many nicer

places in the world

and why

oh why did Billy Joel

have to be right

this one time?

(this only encourages him)

...no right turn...

I don't like leaving

you there in the glass

tunnel taking turns

at watching each of us

walk away in the reflections

on the brown glass tint


I told you that this part

was the hardest

and you told me

that nothing


nothing

is as hard

as this

(and you were right)

...the light above the bed...

glows down on your head

shining through the silvers

in your hair and then

back through the tubing

and into your lungs

shining and open

accepting the glow

as if it were oxygen

as if it were the only

thing we needed

to keep us alive

...bellyaching...

it was either

something I said

or something I ate

(probably the former

as is common

as of late)

...easier than breathing...

there is nothing

easy about taking a deep

breath and slowing

down the world around

you but you try and try

and puff and puff

until it becomes easier

to feel relief and solace

in knowing the world

around you you created

...2:39 in the morning...

we can't do this:

no matter where we are:

we can be here:

instantaneously:

if necessary:

and if something did:

go wrong:

we wouldn't be notified:

because nobody knows:

we're here:

we're here:

but it is useless:

we might as well:

be at home:

ready to spring:

to attention:

to the upright:

position:

of the rest:

who walk with us:

at 2:39 in the morning:

if necessary:

...prayer and praise...

the softest side of the skin is unseen

the last wisp of hair glimmers without the sun

foreseen only in the distant detail

we look closer and closer at the clock

and hope it will stay still

no arm moving forward

or back to a false belief

but right here

and seemingly now

this will all be part of the cycle

just like the dismissal of cells

that appear as skin

when we fold our hands together

we pray that they cannot ever

separate or lose the other

this is not what we get

when we praise one another

when it is undue

this is what we get

when we finally get

what it is

that takes us over

...scurry...

are these squirrels

in my ceiling

or in my head

or is my head

the ceiling

I am thinking of?

...to rest...

the shrouded

to rest

eternally

in the warmth

of the soil

and in the warmth

of the wife's return

to the husband

like the child

to the womb

or the lover

to the embrace.





(in memory of Ann Nagel)

...2/22/08...

at long last

we have white

and piles of it

and prior to

the plow's first

salt and pepper

mow the dog

is pouncing around

like a mini-horse

and naturally

without a change

in aperture

or setting

or lighting

we have the perfect

contrast:

black black dog

on white white snow

(shutter closing

slow)

...illness in flux...

with each wave

you go in and out

of real and unreal

and question the nightmare

as if it were actual



that fear in your eyes

is the fear in your head

and that fever that

comes and goes

is as real as the needle



that they use to settle

the stomach or spasm

this illness in flux

and will be for a few

more days

...like everyday...

I love you

and miss

you so much

it hurts

to say

I love you

and miss

you so much

...miss piggy...

you used to

call yourself

miss piggy


everytime

you belched

while playing


scrabble

and tallied

triple word score


I need

miss piggy

back today


a belch

is a sign

of satiation


that's all any

of us wants

right now

...damn it...

just got

shut out

for MMJ

tickets

damn it

this feels

like the old

days

who's got my extra

...semi-final...

This is in Australia:

women in short skirts

hit yellow balls really hard

and my father is the poet

this isn't bizzaro realm

it is perfect karma, yet anti-spiritual

I can't decide

which stroke produces

the loudest grunts

two hands or one

and I can't figure out

which is hotter

watching tennis

or writing a poem

about it (not just making

a dumb ass joke)

injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere


--Martin Luther King, Jr.

...1 Mil Press Con...

check out the new disc recorded in lovely Bloomfield, NJ...

http://www.archive.org/details/1MilPressConference

...with the dogs...

Size matters when fear exists:

Take Noah and the cat:

Take Noah and the dog:

Please don't take them:

He crawls to the claws:

The fear only lives in the feline:

He shys from canine:

This is a learned trait:

How can he fill his boat:

If he doesn't get along:

with the dogs:

I would hate to see them:

Miss the boat:

Him, too.

...first post...

welcome to the new year

dog who comes to town

sad and wet and boney

hopefully this will be

yours as it is ours

and you will be

forever warm

and in the right place

at the right time

...american health cares...

the clouds must part

today they must do

as you say with vehemence

this too I shall do

because we cannot take this

beating any longer

like the dripping water

torture or the time test

and sweaty fists clenched

with fear and anger

coffee and starvation


except for us


no one cares

even the ones

who are paid

so handsomely

to do so

...singing in the snain...

singing along

to La Cucaracha

with new hope

I almost fishtale

off the bridge

thinking the snain

was just passing

through the grate

...tv news kills the romantic in Seattle...

the new ones

were darker even though

you don't think so

dreary is what you called

them but they were rainy

this has to do with locale

the fact that you mentioned

turning on a tv

which I never thought

was an option for you

was your downfall

and the reason

for this aggressive stance

(welcome to our world)

all poems are political

...sleep fight...

as soon as

I hit you

I wake up

...conjugations of conjunctivitis...

not the flight

but the battle

not in the hardest stone

nothing like this

and the bloodshot

worsened with withered hours

and the pins and needles

worked the cornea

(the tributary image

reappears in the once-white

of the eyes, creeping

and creek-like)

until the drops were

administered and I saw again

what you saw

when we got back

home and lit up

the office desk lamps

and wrote about

how irony blesses

us with coincidence

and illness seeps

through the thin thin

walls like the wind

(more ironic that chronic)

...thousands of feet overhead...

the white lawn speckled

with dead brown leaves

and branches veining,

creeping into shapes

similar to tributaries

and rivers

from thousands of feet

overhead,

we sit warm toasted

by the radiant heat

and the pulse of a square light

that singes the hairs

on both of our arms

telling us that we must

move around more

or we will miss

the little features

we used to watch

of each other like

little television episodes.

It snowed to white

and I still do not know

what the small

of your back tastes

like today.

There's no punch like

or catch phrase here.

This is just the age

of the docudrama.

...cloudy...

I thought clouds

were supposed to hold

rain up so that we

can get something done

like rake leaves

or make love

but I guess they

open up for a reason

which is required

of both

and that is sad

...anymore...

I cannot write

poetry anymore

unless it is snowing

and it is snowing

(or at least snaining)

and I have to go

to class so

I cannot write

poetry anymore

(until the snow

starts sticking)

...keeps me warm...

after I leave

what do i have

that keeps me warm

but the image

of you lying in bed

with that soft smile

on your face

Happy Birthday Mom!!!

...substitution...

six twenty seven

six forty six

out the door

and into the door

half asleep

half asleep

(guess then I'm asleep)

gas pedal dream

across the sludge

canal bridge

closed windows

mean nothing

when the vapors

seep in


(at this hour

I can't find a sub

to help me drive

this class home)

...passed you by...

at only eleven bucks

I should have taken you

with me and read that first

poem again and again

because it was your last

and yet I left you

on the shelf

where one leaves

the books

before going

into the bathroom

(you were hard

covered)

and I want to slam

my finger into the car

door for not making

you my own

...l'shanah tovah...

at the river's edge

I say I'm sorry

and think about

how things can only

get better this year

once I get rid of this

lint in my pocket

and this little shameful

thought that I can

make things better

...neglicide...

(this is our helplessness)


and no depth

of mine can

match that

of yours


this is part of the same

system that has failed

us and you and her


this is

"par for the course"

a phrase known

better to doctors

than "can I help you?"

more used then

"I can help you."


and all we want is some help

to make things easier

for those who actually need it


Where are the skilled doctors

who actually want to treat

illness and disease?


When did this take

a backseat to golf

and boats and trophy wives?


Wasn't there an oath involved

somewhere along the line?


Through neglect

we have bred terror

and the fear is that

we will all end up this way


irreperabley damaged

while the ones who have

studied the ailments

have given up

on the ailing

...roast beep...

smile again match

the sweetness of apple

and honey and

the year that is to come

and he is only three

(me only thirty)

but the joy is the same

he's gonna smile

like that forever

as long as he

keeps moving

...signs of the divine...

(these are signs:)

there are casualties and

injuries and upsets and

smashing and crushing


(Mistakes have been made:)

bombs and bullets and

blitzkreig and ballet and

wounded and wound


(Fighters have fought:)

boxer and bloodsport and

water and nurture and

nature and torture


(we've clashed here:)

testament versus testament versus

prayer versus prey versus

fan versus fanatic


(In the severity of each case
our cruel sense of import
tears at the very source
of the divine, what we are
as a whole.)

...scan-tron exam...

the microchip will be
eventually inserted just
below the skin

tomorrow's pain
will become a barcode
injected just below

the epidermal layer
into the veins
or deep tissue

in case of emergency
the signal wil be clear
and help appears

and the check
will be handled with a wand
and a long list

explaining why the exam
costs as much as a pill
that will require more tests

to seek more answers
that will require
more tests and pills

and nothing gets alleviated
or cured or even sustained
long enough to be sure

that the diagnosis
was as accurate
as the bill

D'oh!

...sweatshirt on the train...

she was some sort of test

I cannot discern between

want and need

but this is probably

part of the test


If I give her the long sleeve

and leave you in the cold

who will I be looking out for

me the guy on the spot

with the public display

of dupe or be duped


The answer was actually simple

you are the one

that I need to keep warm

because your hands

are always cold


and I need to keep

the rest of you warm

and hold your hands

if the warm blood doesn't

make its way that far


(called extremeties

this was extreme)


regardless of whether

it is July or January

the swearshirt stays

on your back

always

I promise

...porch sun...

the cities all mesh with themselves

this big red house is cool today

on the porch especially well lit today

the sun keeps asking questions

as if I knew the answers he was looking for

Oh, you know the answer to that

you are the sun and I am the spot

on the earth that you miss

when I go into the house

to sleep or den to feed

the parody of this is breakfast

cereal commercials or advertisments

from Country Life

but I am far from this luxury

far from Vergennes

far from the homes sitting

along the Champlain Islands

too far from the strawberry feild

outside Burlington

closer to the one in Central Park

and that hasn't a strawberry in it

The fears are quelled by the sun

today and the return to simple

becomes the truest aim

of sitting on the porch

...the wait...

patience

is the tricky thing

when the air is thick with water

and the sun boils the water

before it can ground itself

clouds

the wait for them

is unbearable

never wanted a western

front to come quicker

and the package of moisture

needs to finally open

and cool us all down


Are clouds of afraid

of freon


Are storms weary

of being saviors


Here comes the sun

again

but it isn't alright

it'll destroy us all


until the rains begin

I have nothing

and cannot breath

...sweet sweat...

I am sweating

you are sweating

the quiche is especially dill

the brownie you eat

you are sweating sweet

that is fitting for you

take a sip

berry soda chill

and sweating sweet


the body is still

...blown gasket...

I cannot count

the things I have lost

today on my hands

toes may cover it


the recent Harvard grad

in the waiting room

had just a few leaks

a few thousand miles

past due is an easy mistake

for a recent Harvard grad


for me however

on top of it like a tick

the greasy little men

all gave me the green light


and yet the smoke rose

and rose and resignated

some more and the prognosis

grew grim and grimey


what do you do

when you have less

than the balance requires


what do you do

when you can't get

to the job you need

to get the money

you need to get

to the job


the spine stiffens

the neck locks from the base

of the skull to the lower shoulder

blade is transparent


of something that has clearly

been wrong for a while now

and that the gasket

had already blown

...two days later...

the sun is still

in it's perfection

like you now sitting

across the rays


becoming highlights

in your novel

or explicating passages

about a child from Sudan


and how our oil leaks

and front door repairs

are nothing meaningless

in light of all


that was once beautiful

that now is not


words are humbling

when they comfort

but burn in the sun

if left out too long


we have a front door

we have oil in our car

we have each blackberry in the yard

we have each other


we are ok for now

we are ok for now

...summer solstice...

could it be

any more perfect

today

yes

but you are

at work

...stereo Television...

the park central astroturf

and the rain on the apples

lightning in the north

and the song to wish the sun out


over the city

the voices sound off

and this is theirs

the imperfection is beauty


with you to turn on

blanketed in yellow

opening up to skin glow

the angle of the guitar note


this was generous

the marquee was lit

during the day

for a few to see


and I was not

there inside myself

rather nostaglic

of the year of birth


and that comfort

of the womb

the closeness

of the belly


to the heart

to the breast

and to the ageless

song you sing

...over at last...

the complaint was this:

to describe where I live

my drive to work

all I had to do was tell

the person I was

talking to to watch

the show's intro

(ignoring the theme music)

see the Turnpike

see Pizzaland

see Satin Dollz

and now

in a tale's demise

Holstein's

I tell the guy

that's where I live

and it sucks

just as bad as that

stupid show did

...tending to the farm...

burning is the sky

tired is the muscle

dirty are the ankles

broke is the reality

soil in the savior

tired are the limbs

feeble is the attempt

lonely as the basis

corruption at the roots

broke is the situation

tired are the eyes

tender is the rootball

sweat in the soil

policy in the temptation

few in the many

leaves of the last

roots from the garden

sun in the spring

tired is the till

shovels are arms

warped wooden legs

(here in the garden

poets are merely

trellises for the vines)