Damnable Fact

It is entirely possible

Construction does not draw correlation

With communication

empirically

And even if it does

What I’m looking for

Is

The turn of the wheel

That gives us commonality

A way to see what you’re saying

Feel me

But if the way you seek

Is simply using words

To get to the heart of the matter

I want to touch you

Free of the artifice

That hides true intentions

And if that’s possible

In the end

We’ll know what you mean

That’s the problem

Hyphenated Name

The mix is rich today

Can’t find my phone

Walking the rooms

Maze and haze

Where are my keys

If there is a heaven

And we all secretly hope there is

Will there be bartenders

Can drunks on the steps

Drink all day in a neighborhood bar

Without dire consequences

I know a hot shots outcome rictus talisman

Bathroom spiking preoccupied with constipation

Locked door an early manifestation of DNR

So what

Why weigh one death more worthy of reflection

Every death’s an ending to earthly interaction

No damn shame in that

We don’t know what might have been

Certain only of what was left

Recordings of Lenny Bruce

Library of Babel

All the things you can’t take with you

I Believe in Circular Rotation

The snow comes a mute swan to cover my feet

Of clay to be rendered down when the weather warms

A puddles indentation briefest mention in a drought

Sing my days diminution a Beatles tune

Day tripper in a Somerset South Sea story

Dance for a sixpence without pants

Ignore the ignominious 
As they you

Tip your hat a swell in the deep end

Hold your nose against the din and all that 
That entails

Entrails and garden path’s lead you astray

Wink of a winsome lass pony tailed

Swishing hey how you doing

It warms mid afternoon light flickers on

Reflective surfaces distorts all images

Real or imagined in sleeps recesses

A nap most welcome settle for a quick smoke

Turn off the cell phone unplug the computer yank

Throw the modem over your shoulder for good luck

Hang your socks over the radiator slip on a disk

Play some NOLA Gris-Gris Tom Tom and Tambourines

Leave your hat on the turntable spinning