dawning of day--bridge me the sequel
and say nothing of memory--
hard stones looking back
into foreign affairs--where's the knife point?!
searching through the air
words tumble blood to bare
the sequence fumbles through like this:
noThing to bother the bitter left outside
the door opened looking for
bright colored evening song and boy lines drawn in the sky
silhouette my song and feel it like pride
in the lungs breathing deep the night and the day the dawn until
park stories bring us back to earth and we feel like light on the skin

no turn
rounding the corner of earth or growing
up and out
became present
and sudden
a godless warning
caught
on the stage, flood lights, dragged from the porch and her death--
child--
is great--yet still means noThing next to universe
rocked by the poor pitter-patter of left-behind-future

bleak blank and drunk on the street
unless
some pick-me-up shoulder shrug can bring her out
out of time and shell
noon day spells, sun on the skin makes one think again
of rosters--foster the cost of living
shown blatant and bare--the face (off) laughing
sagging is the sense of movement

where is here and how did it come to be?
i normally see these things
well in advance
instead looking to the radio gods to send a sign
what way to leave this benign existence

looking for fever--progressive strife
sound by life
it is breath and lips and sweat
concrete scores rocked by a dancing floor

deliver the couch with great austerity
bring to my mind
accept the rest as unavoidable
and affordable death
alternative to the rest (consumption and burning)
hypocrisy learning

single out the lined figured in the corner
a lone
glacier serving solitude and wrecking the scape
keeping noThing not even herself safe