SIDE POCKET
The future is explicitly without magic
Do you remember the temples
Where we used to rip hearts out of each other,
Observe a skinless pulse held against a constellation;
we’d drink our snake bites;
Cry to summon help from the sky
When it burned our bellies
I can’t believe you don’t care
That we won’t even have mystery
Gummies—Sorry, I am mistaken
We’ll always have aliens
And random discarded shoes
In the bushes
Though some possibilities
Have already ended
I THINK IT IS TIME TO DELETE THIS
Dear angelic sloth, you jealous frost
I see you in the kitchen delayed by sustenance
I think it’s time to delete this
Mode of function, so put on a bright colored shirt
Take your green and blues
with a side of yellow & a scratch of pink
Clawing the sleepy way out
REVERSE ENGINEERING
cold open with reverse engineering
the vessel that’s become the obstacle—
because you told me so, and
having never been examined,
I am in a constant state of waiting,
waiting in the back rooms
to be researched,
remotely, in my sleep,
a stationary blur,
undisturbed in shrink wrap,
under the magnet of
a violent green—
awake to wooly breath,
some teeth missing, the hairy ones,
scales where the circus animal shaped burns
used to be; biopsies, the taste of
raw root vegetables and dirt,
latex in the air; opening the application
that alerts others of my existence
to find the most unflattering photos
of myself—all pictures I took of myself
I’ve just been notified I’ve died
by the worst people—people on the internet
I’ve just noticed I’m a flickering green glow,
a body of eucalyptus, spritzed
hovering over a pane of crisis which is
no longer my own—
B-sides are records of
what could have been,
more than a two bird symphony,
a host of ideas and magical gestures;
salt of the earth; all kittens and poodles—
the type of person you could rely on
to help you move light boxes up and down
elevators in secure buildings
looking himself into importance
simply for helping,
the other guys are wondering what
he is offering, what he is getting out of
carrying a shoe box of dvds and a flatscreen monitor—
I mean, they’re sweating profusely
like towels submerged in a bucket of water
& then wrung out, reminding themselves,
he is helping, he is doing the best that he can