and learn to fly.

you and i are living on the brink of an illusion.

my days are filled with enough deadlines and headlines and homophobes to make a better smarter nobler person quit

my life isn’t exciting

it’s erecting itself
slabs of discard marble stacked on
terracotta ruins
so history will meet expense and
wear its dissonance on the
sleeve of
tonal architecture

i could speak for days

for the days that are overcast
for the nights that are sparkling
for the wine that has soured
for the coffee that has coolled

i want my calendar to turn itself
and scribble in at eight thirty every pm
‘time to drink’
at six am
love someone
at three fifteen
blink, because you haven’t yet

everyone’s lives are full
and everyone’s eyes are tired
except for the vegans
they’re fueled on pretention and parsnips
leaving the cow methane for
mouth breathers
and
muddy little children

only children for three more days
then your self-taught shame kicks in
and the resurrection of your
invitation into a world of indignity insecurity and doubt
appears on your doorstep

pick up the card, i dare you

my days are filled with more streetlights and weather sirens and weathered shamans to make a better smarter nobler person quit

and i’m not complaining

i’m pontificating
i’m considering
i’m talking out my ass

the air outside is so very tired
it shrugs slowly down my lungs
rolls sonorously out my nostrils
and begs and begs for a rest

let me give it a rest

there’s time enough
in another day
to talk of the state of things.