tickled fallen broken lacking
all things never wanted throwing
out the back door trash can burning
lighting laughing smiling churning
noting nothing ever smoking
feeling nothing never wanting
waning knowing never stopping
till then growing walking talking
stalking
it’s hard to see past your own nose
it’s hard to put that in your prose
and when i’m on a slump
and revel in muck
i want to throw myself in the road
we fall into
bed like jumping into
the ocean welcoming
the undertow of
our dreams and
gravity’s
effect.
cut the tension
with a noodle
then you know
good company
the sieve and the sand 