you get what you need (20200617)

you get what you want

if what you want
is a backhand
from the ticking
winding down
clock

the second hand
gives you the finger
–good job, asshole!
only time has mastered
sarcasm

grab a shovel
don’t forget to measure
yourself first
we will all get buried standing up
can’t let change
fall out of our pockets
or our hips dislocate
during rapture
alien abduction
other failures of gravity

give us the greening grass
below our feet
or else
above all your heads

potential (20200409)

hold the flashlight up
under my chin
like a suicidal jedi knight
breathe out
empty those lungs yogi-style

in the light a vapor forms
the amorphous shape
undulates away
disappears as water droplets
spread and the temperature
between them and the adjacent air
becomes insignificant

exhale again
step into
the little cloud of myself
feel nothing

neither the sudden cooling
of nighttime sea spray
nor the volcanic steam
of the just finished running dishwasher

just nothing

and is this
–i wonder aloud to the dog–
what ghosts don’t feel
when they pass through
one another?

the fit of melancholy (20200407)

the poor are still poor
the dying still die

those obsessed with power
wrap themselves in disaster
like moths in cocoons
only to emerge stinking of
blood
self-righteousness
their own vile shit

weaponize everything
the weapons
the disease
the cure

cockroaches
are time travelers
come back to honor
their ancestors

olfactory event (20191108)

the late night fog
carries the smell of candy

the dog doesn’t notice
or is uninterested
or i imagine it

each of these potential realities
is equally valid

in other universes my little hunter
has a cold
has scented a coyote
i am having an intracranial incident

i cannot avoid what
the night fog offers me

no bitter oil slick of chocolate
no icy bite of mint
no slow burn of cinnamon

just the sick-sweet punch
of fluorescent waxes filled with
sugar syrup and unspecified fruit flavors
a preschool classroom
after snack time
each mouth red-ringed
exhaling diabetic clouds
during nap time

***

the morning fog replaces this
with the odors of wet
pine
juniper
cypress
eucalyptus
and standing beneath one
broad-leafed tree
the sound of rain
local to this spot
instantiated in this moment
dew condenses
dripping leaf to leaf