I often wanted to take off my glasses & wearily rub my eyes
like some under appreciated protagonist
I’d probably seen in a movie one too many times.
To dwell in the 3 realms is to dwell in a burning house
like when you decide to stop being weird & discover you are.
A common problem hits the spot.
The moss & lichen argue over
who is the more poetic
perhaps this too was imagined, but everything now
became analogy for war.
When the Californians came there,
where the beavers had become iron
they asked for a supermarket
& there was Wild Oats
they asked for a Whole Foods
& there was Whole Foods
…and found above their foreheads
titles they didn’t see coming.
It’s dull being good.
Each orientation is an emotion
if you’ll share your pills with me.
I’m not a priest
I’m a novice
I’m not a chef
I’m a cook
I’m not a professor
I’m a teacher
I’m not a captain
I’m an officer
I’m not a seamstress for the teamsters
I’m a super slippery seaweed
I’m not a poet
I’m a poet
but I want to be a baker
& love the Allman Brothers.
Whenever I hear a dollar amount
I expect it to be followed by the non-sound of feathers.
We stop to pee in the tornado warning
& I wash my feet in the sink.
We eat the oldest cheese first.
Why aren’t we dead?
