the world is an explosion
is it
of it
and continues
rumbling
lingers unfinished
a line drawn by a mad father
we both
live //
here to settle
the unsettleable
settle things unright
or make them unright
more.
bodies rumble,
little body planets
to be
or
to be
nothing
to go beyond feet and fingertips
to unkeep secrets
to watch the
frozen
drown
witness.
is it an insult to imagine any living thing
safe
to stay comfy among the safe
to save your
self among the safe?
blood
and bones
teeth and fur
fire from sockets
knife on tips
what mysteries under skin's thin sheet
fingers reach
for the crashed and darkened face,
for the pulsating
light triggered by the fall.
falling falling sleeping dying
tears done in hell.
Held you like
a baby
my heatbeat
my cock
cupped you
a book of prayer
my last
sustenance
nothing rises and falls here
with
what
the president says
who is even
the president
it is not he who is there whatshisname
but he who is under or behind or next door
and he who is named says what some
one
wants to hear
and it does not make any citizens happier
but the world at large says
ah democracy
they have learned
they have learned
they are children but they have learned
every minute is different
heart was
sinking
lying in a pool of its own blood and
there
you recognized feeling and thought feeling hurts
and then thought
feeling and so you welcome it glad
perhaps an indication that you might return to yourself that yourself might be waking up to the world and to senses the first sense is pain
pain does not have a taste
always
sometimes has a taste
a taste from sulphur
a forming of strangleholds of senses
a burning at the corner of your lips in the back of your throat a holding in the center of your chest. sulphur.
you sat at the colorful bar out of place in an other country and ordered what your country men order
a taco because that is what you should order
and then you stopped feeling because who is there to feel with. There is the bartender who smiles until you turn sideways when she will roll her eyes at the ridiculous amounts of cash you are spending and this is when there is no more feeling the burning is gone. you do not exactly miss it you are sad that this means there will be yet another long stretch before there is any hint of a person in you. she looked at you that way that makes you hate yourself and when you hate yourself you disappear
gradients? (not a poem)
who is alive
who is dead
who is almost alive
who is almost dead
who wants to be a live
who wants to be dead
who does not want to be dead
who does not want to be alive
who does not think about this
who thinks about this
who is far from alive
who is far from dead
this is a process
that will
remain
fixed in time
continuing to be fixed
continuing to turn
wait for its end
its end will not come
wait for its beginning
(it is just beginning/
about to begin)
bated breath