we forgot we were in a battle so
instead of fighting against the advances
of the enemy

we cowered the corner
forgetting we were cowering
settling for complacency
all the while

the battle rages for that which
outlasts this generation this
technology
these nations
these civilizations

the battle rages over
eternity

yours and mine

and hello to the tens
(and what will soon be the teens)
in typical fashion

asleep. unaware. careless.
as though i myself

had dropped the ball

your father died abruptly
(as though death
-though inevitable-
is ever expected)
and you’re stuck wondering floundering
in debt up to your ears
supporting the woman
you never dreamed about

oh and your mother

Your religion doesn’t
keep you warm at night.

Not unless you worship
the God Forsaken dollar
that pays the man that
pipes the gas that heats
your modest dwelling.

Damned if you do though,
I suppose.

Where are you going?
Revolutions per second propel
You past in a blue blur.
Where have you gone?
This world without speed limits
Has spun you beyond recognition.

A thousand miles out there lies
a cavern so I’ve heard, and in
it’s depths is held the truest
of the powers of the world, with
all the snapping grips upon it,
all the reaching souls deranged,
there’s not a finger, paw or feather
that can touch the thing unsinged

I’ll be following my father, for it,
tracking all his steps, and if
the trail goes cold I’ll just have
to find the way myself, with
the eloquence of danger
and my snarling steel unfurled
I’ll be gripping soon, the very
truest power of the world

watch closely:
you don’t know what
you think you know.

they may have had one thing right
we don’t get there through
having

You and I will live,
just long enough to atone
for the crimes we have committed

We will be forced to
rise with the full strengths
which are requisite to be human

And when we fall, I
will probably go with Dylan
on my lips.

I never was big on Dylan
but I just have a feeling.
And things change,
you know?

i spend my life
grasping for dreams
just within my reach
fearing for all my
wits they’ll slip and leave
me out on the streets

Sometimes
there’s a reason
that the road
less traveled
was

practicing standing up before the
alarm goes off
tying, untying shoes
placing coat in correct position
arriving to practice 20 minutes
early to get the proper motiv
ation and the proper preper
ation so when the coach says
“KLINGER, YOUR IN!”
i will not,
not,
not,
not,
not,
fumble the ball like a fresh
man,
or sophomore.

hitting the field with extra
grass in my teeth,
even if i get that touchdown,
i must not waver.
do you think atlas wavers?
do you think a coach would
bench atlas?
or hercules?
or klinger?

I was just thinking
today
how we used to be
people
to eachother.

I don’t know where the
offense
was rendered, but
somehow
that’s all it took, and

I’d love to fix things
but
there’s no use
calling
a phone that’s off the
hook
all the time

I remember
days
when we’d be
more
than just people
to
each other, but
now
I find other
numbers
to dial

with each stride
your heart’s pounding ten times in between
your feet are numb
and the only way you know there’s
ground beneath them is cause
you don’t fall over
the air squeezes your chest like a vice
nostrils constrict
and you wonder how with a subzero chill
your lungs could still burn like napalm
curse, heave, spit
with insides about to burst
and the dull thuds of worn out sneakers
keeping strained
but steady rhythm to the pavement
to the swish of dead grass
on the frozen ground

last lap
ice stings your eyes like sand
wind searing frostbitten ears
one more block to go
one last thrust to drive out the damage
collapse, catch breath,
renew

christmas reminds
christ is God all powerful
you alone worthy of my life

There are fifteen different systems
that I hate I hate I hate and
I could count them if you ask me
but I think I’d rather not so
let me stew in my annoyances
and hate and hate and hate
until the feeling’s passed, and
I’m back to ignoring all these
systems that I
hate hate hate hate

the oil gets thick in the motor
when it’s not turnin at 23 degrees
Fahrenheit after you been runnin’
the block on foot thinking “why man
i oughta get outta this place”
with your head all up in the sky
oh man, your so high. oh the lead
in your head that they put in the
drain they say if you don’t drink
it it makes you insane but you
gotta nervous tick like your
life’s down the drain so your
thinking you might stick your
head in the rain when your
thirsty ‘cuz you know that
shits
mind
control
aint it?
when it all comes down you
gotta pick up the dollars
and put them back down
or all the school children might
call you a clown so you pick
up your back and you walk
down the road towards oblivion
thinking “at least i’ll go there
alone” and man,
you are so damn high.

never lost this twinge of mine
preceding an evening i know’ll
include cloves or a hookah
stale couches and a twoehyim
call to some delivery joint for
what inevitably isn’t muchies
but something like it
not quite high

we called it being ‘tall’

never lost that feeling i got
before i joined my friends for
a walk across the top of the
world owning every minute
spraying candles with squirt
guns and making stale couches

I warned you,
I swear to God
(if there is a God)
I did.
Didn’t you hear me?

I was screaming,
through the double-pane
protecting me and mine
from all the ice-cold wind
and beggars
and midnight peddlers
and cops
(the cops mostly)

You never should have gone
that way.
I see you’re going
the other way
and that’s just not where
you were trying to be.

But those cops,
they’re just out to protect
us.
They just want to
stop us, for our own well-being
and their own peace
(piece?) of mind
to make sure that my pockets
are empty,
free of the burden of illegal
substances, weapons, and
(coincidentally), money,
if I’m found not to be lacking
in any of the other things.

This living we tend to do,
it’s an expensive habit. God
(if there is a God) forbid
that all those cops, who
are only looking out for our
well-being, find it in their hearts
to, just maybe, help
keep costs down,
instead of us.

But they won’t.
They got you,
in the cruiser.
They caught you,
running the block.
They’ve got you on
nothing, and they know it,
but they got you.
And I warned you.
Didn’t you hear me?