3-Day Suit Store

First, in the 3-Day Suit Store,

they dressed me in Killer Whale,

but I didn't like the tightness of purpose.

Then, it was Bull Elephant,

but I didn't like the responsibility.

Dolphin looked good, but

I can't laugh and play all day.

Finally, they dressed me in dog,

and it seemed to fit just fine,

small and nearly invisible.

Notes From The Dog Park

i pulled four fingers straight across my face

and sighed.

This life, man, this life.

Outer space called.

Didn't pick up.

Still never do.

Freeway sounds like stock cars

at New Smyrna Speedway,

my blood audio.

She looked at me like I was melting,

prayed that I'd take shape.

i kept it animal simple.

At the funeral, I was so proud of my friend.

He lived it like he said it,

and left the loudest silence.

You study physics? (5)

We know it in sensation! (7)

Haiku bends space time. (5)

We can't believe how hot it is,

as if outside is an HVAC mistake,

and someone needs to be called.

Air conditioning is weather for robots,

machine climate for machines.

It's a lie.

Sometimes, I wish I wasn't me.

Maybe it's because I have done was,

and I'm curious to try wasn't.

The trees and shrubs told me today

a suburban street is a starving whore

compared to the way it once was.

"Come on over to we." Wait, what?

"Come on over to we." No, please.

A call to surrender, right? I am me!

This world does not work the way it was explained to you.

Punch a hole in your brain to the infinite!

The New World We Created

Asked my father before he died

about the new world we created,

and he just said, "Pray.

First, pray for a breeze.

Then, pray for cloud cover."

I told him, "Our God's gone." 

He agreed. "Find new ones."

Food got unaffordable, and

power blackouts normal.

Finally, no air was possible.

But the drugs got cheaper,

and marched everywhere.

We're on our way to Mars,

the next bio phase after Hell.

7th Sun

What I wanted most,

a sad ending to it all,

in confirmation, old,

I went beyond.

Feels like it's coming on.

Neck twisted up.

Numb feet and hands.

No spit. Can't hear.

Money going fast.

After saying all I said,

the world...the world,

in murderous bounce,

and no goodbye,

no care to what I know.

Then, kill me hard. In proof.

Wrote it up. Called it out. Now,

wreck me like an ocean wave.

Agreed?

All framed up

by what happened

or what is.

Can't write a line

without sky, stars,

cheetahs, dandelions,

the First Communion party,

my friend's motorcycle crash,

or the clerk job at Safeway.

It's not a question

of what is there.

We lack language

for what never came before...
where we must go,
alive and altogether.

Merchant Magus

He got promoted and now he sees

the undersides of speeding trucks,

anger of the ocean as it flings

an empty message bottle wave to wave,

wind demanding a plastic bag jump and dance.

Nothing more than a middle manager,

but he thinks he'll move mountains

because he knows the mechanics,

the meetings schedule, the budget items

that will get hit the hardest despite best plans.

Avalanches to flat tires, forest fires to overtime,

all that might happen!

Still, a distance from the shaman's cave,

where he once slapped off the spider webs

from his head and shoulders, and now

eats them as he finds them in his garage,

alert to the change, where darkness

turned from nothing to everything.

The Only Thing We Talk About

How's the pitching this year?

The produce has gone downhilll.

Does this car come with a USB port?

Is your restaurant still open?

What is the nature of reality?

Are they still doing that?

Can't wait to see your pictures of Paris.
Is that guy still alive?