It can get maddening This pursuit

What was the artist thinking When playing their castanets?

Were they hoping you'd hear things Just as they did in the studio Or on the stage?

Does it matter what they were hoping? Does it matter what you're hearing? Is the enjoyment about faithfulness? Is the enjoyment about the enjoyment?

It'd be great to know the answer to that question You'll know it when you hear it You can't hear it until you've dropped Multiple paychecks into hearing it Just so

Will you arrive at the end? Will you just keep searching? Will you ever truly enjoy?


I'm listening to this remix thing It's on YouTube, where a full half of my video content gets absorbed

Into my brain Or rather my head Like the difference Between listening And hearing

It is a really clever sort of remix Where it takes the original multitrack music And makes a new version of the song with no additions Technically

This is a good use Of the social media The feeder of content It's really interesting And if I could just stay With listening to this And avoid the Click Click Click Bedtime

Click Click Click

If only I could Break Free


We were goofing Using the pellets as play

Cans that we could find In the trash Set up A pyramid

Safe and sound Away from the houses Into the field Our aim untrue


What else can we point at? Birds flying by Butterflies Not hunters

Hmm This pavement Curious

Do our pellets Deflect? Into the blue sky? Embed? Into the hot tar?

A shot A breath Another

Deflect Into the warm flesh Run Pretend

We're just bored outside No reason No reason


It's not like I grew up in this place There is no nostalgic connection

Twenty-two Years have gone by Lived here Longer than anywhere

Like family There are things I like I love And things I dislike I hate

Like family I'm still here It is one of those instances Where I chose my own family And I could choose again Leave this one behind

There are things I love And things I hate Like family

I stay


Emptying into the larger river The brook

Summer arrives It doesn't exist A place for floating dandelion to collapse Try to take hold

Mostly scrabble Stone and gravel Harsh Gritty

Baked by rays Hot Shimmering Parched

Until the snows come again


Every day The clothes pile up With a family of five

The shirts And the shorts (Thank goodness it's nearly summer) And the socks

And the underwear God, the underwear

I wonder what this pile would weigh If I could get it onto a scale If ever it could be contained In that manner

Does it even make sense To find the mass of cloth To tally it like a body or an ingredient

Some have simplified Identical colors Identical garments Identical days Identical nights

But still they have to wash dry fold repeat

But still they have to


The clouds had went Their separate ways

Sucked out of the sky By the departing wind

What was left was pure And glittering And calm

Like the eye of a storm

A respite From the constant chill The continuous strong motion

With good fortune it could last longer Not just a passing relaxation

Is wishing a strategy? Does hoping yield results?


Would you rather? Sights and sounds

I miss the painted colors But I still have the shimmering movements The ether swirling around my head

All the dimensions in play The other flat in comparison I would sit I would hear I would be okay Not great But okay

If light is a wave Does it not make a vibration? Can it not be visualized aurally?


All the things are happening It's coming down all around

It gets everywhere Like sand on a beach Or Star Wars on my streaming

The sunny days are freezing The cloudy days are warm And occasionally dripping

It's been weeks since there was a good day Though yesterday wasn't bad As far as days go

Perhaps it's time to step forward But with everything holding me back I'm not sure how

I'm not sure how


They get older They need care They want independence They want home

And so you hint What you need It's not there It's a choice It's a Life or Death

One is ready To start that next stage The other wants to buy The farm on the farm

So together they stay Until together they aren't The line is direct Between here and there

Without movement Without change The hardest thing For one to do

So we wait So we know we wait For Death To make the choice To make the change To make the move