Remember


remember that one time? how long ago was it? probably too long ago to be vivid anymore. that’s how it goes. that’s how it went. maybe. memory is speculative at best. the past is always so long ago even if it was only recently past. and the vivid leaves as soon as the experience does.

so it’s a vague life living on a collection of incorrect coincidences being most inopportune at the time when time was without time for further consultation.

but something else is coming up anyway and who knows if it’ll be a major life event or if it’ll kill you but watch out for the updates. watch and try to make it vivid. add color where the future is bi-chromatic if able to be seen at all.
*
and when there was a loss for words what was really gone?

one time there was a chance to say something about that one time but the time has passed. the moment is dead, gone, buried in memories.

and when there was hell to pay, about how much did that cost? what currency was exchanged? what was the charge for? will the debt be carried over into the afterlife?
*
yesterday it was easy to assume the routine would be the same and it is so there’s that.

for better or worse is no better nor any worse than same old same old and the yeah yeah responses to be returned without so much as a concerned look attached to a face fast set to depart.
*
but then again there was that one time, you remember, that one time when it was within reach. when what was had wasn’t good enough and there wasn’t a reason to settle for less than what might be. you remember? it’s memorable even if it was only that one time.
*
took out a loan for another time. calculated and counted on hope but you wouldn’t cosign. maybe it was for the best. could be for the worst. who knows? what’s there to compare it to? what’s a comparison worth anyway?
*
who’s been more often read than whoever wrote home sweet home in latch-hook? and when there’s no place like home what does that mean for the rest of the world? oh, and to retreat a bit, the author of ‘welcome’ must have trillions of views by now standing on the stoop with salt on boots eager for a drink and some goddamn sympathy for once.

hell, life isn’t easy. take it from somebody who’s been out there and in here actually living almost every day for decades. living and remembering. remembering and trying to find something to focus on but always coming away from feeling sorry. feeling and then being. just once, can somebody else be sorry for a second? it’s been a series of apologies for longer than should be remembered but they always add form to the vagaries of yesterday. whenever that yesterday was without a shape to fill space but gaseous enough to make do. to make us feel full. to make us be full enough for the moment.
*
whatever words were said it’s up for debate now. watershed moments are lighthouses to avoid in the dark when those waves of other days come back. when a respite is not all it needs to be.
it’s what it was then it’ll be what it will be. what it’ll never be is what it is. to be current is to be a conversation. something a word might change.

Take Place


Been rubbernecking. Keeping an eye out for where time took an odd moment to add an extra scar to the road.

*

The last ditch that took some effort to carve. To assure a certain waylay for someone just needing to get away.

*

The truth for all its power sets everybody else free but itself. Instead chooses transformation. Settles for concealment. To be protected from witnessing itself.

*

Can’t turn my back on myself but my back also won’t look me in my face so what good’s a back anyway? If it didn’t come with the body why would anyone even bother having one?

*

The faults furthered the cause of the tectonic shifts. Line breaks will always be a part of this world. Each side is a stanza. The earth quakes suddenly understanding another version needs to take place. This place.

Variety


who decides ‘or’

? how unfortunate are those

who have power over choice!

here in cells w/ stow away

diversity

there is only ‘and’

crawling into pores

forces tongues

to reform / revolt /

rear-end

codeswitches stuck

on one more signal

up ahead at crossroads

needed to be crossed

to reach next

reference point.

*

this is both a determiner and the determined

this – the first person

– singular / collective

this – specific. definite.

of this who has control?

glory be to the world of options,

to the land of variety.

Level Up and Off


gave in and kept on

till

what wouldn’t stop

would have to cave in

even became the offshoot

of eventually

t turned to d

and paired up

got tangled

and let

a couple of grudges

go.

*

it’s  Christmastime – after all –

after all

in reciprocity

a villain for every village

without any appeal.

but,

have faith there’s always room for one more trope

a cliche

to fit any affair

.

shells

egg drop

strangers

eyes

tofu

chopsticks

tradition forged

by guild

of

no other options

*

whose name is that? say it again

haven’t heard it since summer

if the sun

was a mirror

how unseasonable

it would be

how out of order it might be,

what achievements it could unlock

, how easy it would be

for the brightness

of itself

and earth

below,

stars for light years around

to

level up

and off

.

Because Advertising is the Only Gospel to Give Credence To


free to weigh ourselves each morning

and again at night

free to document change

allow ups to be downs

to care more for those numbers

than the alphabets

built into bookshelves

and cave walls

Another’s Lines


Some days reading is more a task of imagination – staring – off the page

instead of following scripts

Sometimes early on,

moving late into night

words

are more shards

than window or mirror

Each page alternates between

one last chance and one time

The blazed path is somehow rocky

and switchbacks

switch no more

the slope is angled

almost 90 degrees

and the road cut

right up the median

The blanket a half inch of wool, cotton or snow

all seen a good chance against this

City and country both real

but the words so strewn

make no stops

at either station

Then this pen has to equip itself for travel

to the end

not being reached

today

in another’s lines

Both These


take ownership of space

it’s all that can be had.

own place and position

take it

and tell time

the ride was worth every dime.

fortune

is lowered sip by sip

till the white bottom shows

again

justice

refills itself

and destiny

is the table

supporting both these cups.