the shower’s a warm blanket
but the cold lives in my spine
if only i could see
then i wouldn’t be so blind
tell me i’m not fine
tell me not to cry
the president’s a virus
and my family is the host
they pull all of their pants down
to get lashed by the holy ghost
castigate my mind
tell me that i lie
my father is a rapist
and my mother cries all day
the sun dances in the window
but has nothing much to say
i’m starting to unwind
i’ve nothing but the time
let up
lift off
why do i always forget?
things are for keeping
as garbage they damage
and take so long to disappear
so if you have a thing
you should stop
every once and a while
and touch it and look at it
so you don’t needlessly replace it
society will build to your demand
they profit from your idle things
and then hide the garbage away
so it looks like it disappears
and your life is a revolving door
of things that have no
significance and can disappear,
conveniently
but that is not the case
they are long to disappear
and you should use and cherish
things
one day you might miss them
like a love
replaced with something
similar.
Sunday evenings before football I contemplate life most.
Trash day is tomorrow, and the red draw strings constrict through my fingers like excavated veins that seal in the stench of my so-called day-to-day living.
The autumn air, the herald of Winter, reawakens my lungs from their Sabbath slumber and there’s something magnetic in the atmosphere.
A static that heightens my senses, spurns hibernation, tastes the tension of a minute hand trembling across the numerals of an hour, makes it matter.
Where has it gone?
Heaving the bundle of paper and plastic product necessities from three yards out – the point after – delegating possession to tomorrow’s trash men.
Will they ask the same questions when their shift ends or only wake up to punch the clock again?
On most nights, I still meander back inside, flat tire my shoes and peel them off, wondering whether the Eagles will cover the spread.
Besides creating more garbage have I done, and am I doing anything with what I’ve been given, or am I just throwing it all away?
the sieve and the sand 