june 28th 2006


the thunder rolls , sounds like

bowling ball halls, show sanitizer.

and all of a sudden,
the sun breaks
moving like stage lights sweeping the concrete.


i'm seaweed, dead in the fishtank,
floating and moving in
the dead ripple of meditation,

my head hurts louder today.

i wish rainbows were everyday, or that my eyes
could focus on how the light bends the clouds,
to see.

sew up these wounds. oh but they always come undone again.

industrial strength thread, or
crazy glue.
the latter seems more fitting,


and then suddenly,

a torrential downpour

the street is dimmed while god washes off
the dirt
down the gutters,

and I follow behind, reprimanded.


june 29th 2006


i project below

a line that is feasible to you;


surely insanity is contagious,

it's easier to not want to be wanted around.
a past participle.


i joke about how vicious i could be,
but




so, it's another year or two without you.

i've done it before.