12 March 2011

sometimes i live in the ocean



watch it now and sing the song
watch how everything takes too long
                          where you go to  and where you come from
                                             all the balloons   twisted       
                                                                         spun

the present

freedom in the drone
freedom                                                        is done

we all got ears
we all got eyes
we all got names and storylines
and we all are running

out

of

time


                                                      twelve of fourteen

                                                      early morning
                                    charlie says you’re a saint

                                                               i say there’s nosuchthing

but he said

wait

he said

see


i waited        i did

 it didn’t
make me believe

i kept watch    out the front door
         kneeling on knees
  i kept listen                  the back door

dancing                                               on heels
 


i forgot how the feeling betrays      when it feels

    how that feeling         becomes          what we need

 neglected    to take   my turn up at the bar
i made everyone whisper  then went too far
                            to the east where at least        we were making             
                                                                                a scar

                     but it  looked like a smile when it stood where you are
                                                                                                                                                        
a smile so soft
tau tangled and neat
sometimes morning comes from no sleep
sometimes    the night times      like crawlers     will creep


up out over and into           destroying the   near

take  tangle to tango       leave the innocent 
                                     
                            in fear



        
the autopsy was early
they didn’t find anything

the family        waited     outside for the last ring
coast to coast coverage told of  a chronic dispersing
the sand left the sand and the water a wet ring
                                                in my hole
in my heart               from peoria
                                                   to peking


on a plane    in a plane with silver star stud wings
and flush formed fasteners      helpless           disgusting
invitation to caress  my very last bee sting


then                                           big huddie
                          
                                                               in the mailbox


stood up               began  to sing

              a sad little song
                                                 he called it

goodnight   irene







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