the sieve and the sand

I’m having trouble
Com-pre-hen-ding
What it is you’re saying
Speak up!
You’re whispering.
Shut up!
You’re shouting.
No, I don’t
Need to explain myself
To you
Can’t I just go to bed already?

The difference between
Extracting and
Extrapolating:

The one bears the
end result,
the other counts the
potential
for the one

Do we extract our
poetry, or
extrapolate?

Are these words worth
the thoughts they’re
meant to convey?

Or are we simply counting
our (un?)limited
potential?

you said “stay stay
if only for a day”
but you closed the
door may i ask what
for?

your twisted dream was
so serene you’d not wake
up for even a scream
when i poked the glass
and it shattered and
crashed oh what an
awful scene

but

nonetheless

i comprehend the frightening
trend of living without a means
to an end
you took my love put it in
a glove and grabbed at
things that i thought were dumb
so here’s to all the time i spend
in my mind,
end over end
delving into the folly of men,
the purpose of skin,
the condition we’re in,
how you’ve fallen victim to this
awful pose,
and in the end, i suppose
i broke my teeth on
your
pretty
bones.

squeezing behind a wheel for the first
time in about a year
i held the grip and shifted gears
awkward with the ease of an automatic

backing out more quickly than i anticipated
and looking to my right (not the left)
i ran plastic into plastic
(cars dont use metal so much anymore)
and paint into paint
a two second
minor scratch

worth 1300 beans to some crapface at a dealership

Coughing up the sick
coughing up the sick and
sleeping back the tired
sleeping back the tired and
fighting
fighting
fighting
fighting for whatever works

just enough scratch to get by,
just enough scratch to pay the
bills and
tickets and
buy enough food to not die,
with just enough scratch to get by

I thought I’d had a thought
at least I think that’s what I
did last night
though there’s no good record
of what I really figured
and in spite
of all of the minutiae
of modern living
and it’s thrills
I’ve come to realize
that the size of a matter
doesn’t kill
the need for introspection
or the need of some dissection
So I hope I did my part
and I hope my thought was right:
I sincerely hope I
had a thought last night

I wish I could convey on paper
Thoughts the way the appear
So beautifully in my head
I want to paint a picture
With every word I say
To the amber colored street lights
Down to the gravel laden roads
To the never ending sunrise
To the waning twilight glow
Then my words grow parched
I have nothing left to say
The beautiful moments escape
And without argument
I watch them disappear

take that dusty
beater
on down to the
Sparkle Buggy

it’s about time for
a change of scenery.

But if the scenery isn’t
ready to be changed
we can always

Buff it
to a mirror shine,

and it won’t be a
change of scenery,
but at least we’ll have to
face ourselves.

you said you did but you
didn’t understand
do you know how hard it is
to want to be your man?
and will i fall victim to some
heavy hand plan
will i set sail just to find
more land?
i am pulling at these wits just
to find their ends
i am but a cloud in a world
of cement
i am just a clown trading
laughs for his rent
i do not want to go
just to know where i
went

My favorite part
is the space between the
last song and the
first song
where all you hear is
static until the tape deck
pops in to reverse
and creates silence for
a split second

Those are the seconds
that I set aside
to think straight

these hurricane winds beat at the side of us but we ride them readily
our steady ship she blasts through
moving quickly through
i, screaming, “it’s been such a long time”
holding onto ropes with entire body held out to sea screaming “i guess i should be going”
wind beating at my face, ship
half capsized
our captain screaming “but time doesn’t wait for me
it keeps
on
going”
the thunder cracks,
the crewmates cheer
our nova, she rights
we see land in the distance
leaving her at the port the villagers of this place know that we are pirates
because we left the fucking music on when we went in
just to pick up cigarettes and mountain dew
to keep our engines running
and when we get back out our captain is already in his chair singing “we’re going
off the rails”
and we jump back in the ship, cast off,
singing “we’re going off the rails
on a crazy train”

On days that I’m working
It’s always so beautiful outside
And I bewail that I can’t enjoy
Sun splashed mornings
Chased by balmy afternoons
With an idle zephyr that bitten into,
Tastes of euphoria

But then again,
Maybe everyday is this beautiful
And I slouch till two in the afternoon
Not having the slightest inclination
To go beyond my dank room on the days
That I’m not ensnared behind a desk
Observing lives whittled down
To the pursuit of dead presidents

All things
are just things
until
something happens
that gives
the thing
mean-ing

That tree is not
my tree
but someone
had their first
kiss beneath it’s
boughs

That bench is not
my bench
but someone
slept there every day
for an hour after work
waiting for the city bus
(and missed it
every first time ’round)

This tree,
though,
is my tree
This bench,
my bench,

and I’d tell you why
but where’s the fun in that?

I suppose that I’m cut out for
crowd control
being bigger, on my
own, than most of the
crowds that I’ve encountered

but I’ve never been cut out for
crowd controlling,
seeing as I
may be huge, but I’d
rather see the crowd do
their own thing

…but it does pay well

How many times
Can I admire out the same window
At scene I’ve seen
So many times before
And appreciate the view unchanging
But always changing
With the seasons
With the time of day
With the weather
With every minute that wind zips
Through thick layers of leaves
Tethered only by wavering stems
Or tugs a crinkling candy wrapper
Along the gum stained curb
And still find beauty
Amidst the mundane
And unacknowledged

questions
raise things
other than answers

and answering
with more questions
is

rude(ruder)uder-ude

whatever they say

Oh God
there are bodies
everywhere

but so far as
I can tell,
most of them
are breathing

I suppose that’s
the difference
between bodies
and people.

Oh God
there are people
everywhere.

when i first saw them,
all i could see was him
sitting quietly,
defeated and in shock,
surrounded by those he loved
and who loved him best,
but utterly alone,
lost in his own thoughts
and dark memories.

no one had anything to say,
except for “i love you,”
whispered in a hug
or with a brief touch,
trying not to break
the silence that we all knew
would soon be broken in shouts
of painfrustrationdisbeliefanger,
as the realization washed over us all
staining our minds and memories
to match the blood covering his hands.

I’ve gotten sort of hung up
on this vessel kind of thing
you know?
Drinking vessels, sailing vessels
and even vessels for the immortal
Soul

And I’m very fond of
rhetoric, but not so much
Hyperbole
and though they can be
similar, they are not
necessarily

The Same

Even after one two many
no-one ever wants to
stretch out
head ’round back
and fight me.

Pussies.