Carry Me Home w/ a Stick or Vines

The oncoming foot traffic
Is boundless, sloughing off into side streets.

They are looking to the left and right,
A dance made from circuits of visual attention,
Open and closed switches where the markets ignite.

“We are born to lift our socks to the sun,
Screaming into the face of heaven,
‘Bid with me on Tuesday night!’

You think you worry enough
About family dinner, and I know you do not.”

Just so, I am brought back to the eddy that calls
My name all day and night,
Putting something gray under my eyes
To convey appropriate gravity.

When the flow dissipates, I quietly observe
That some manner of irreversible charm
Will make each one pull against the other.
I am watching to see it.

Pellegrino Sunset

A border to the window of thought,
Decorated with smiling ants,
Because they are busy
Like a thought being processed;

Peel back this frame;

A cuticle pulled back too far,
Or the force of a door fully applied
To one’s nose;

Meshwork that doesn’t hold seeds very well,
Babble of fallen fruit pits
Lining the space between bag and basin;

Insert soil like an original intention,
Rarer than opulent prose regarding field hands,
Tenser than a bolt restrained for mapping;

An intention to supplant the structure of these ants;

They wish to be exonerated for swimming in juice,
For following scents to the bottom of sticky petals,
And for distracting the reader from the contents

Of an overstuffed balloon.

Caloric Avatar

Subsequently Borne Out by Sea Foam

Briefly concerned, the spot of doubt like chalk on forehead,
Reaching for celery and onions in the foreground,
A lamplight made more radiant by surrounding black volumes
Of Civil War history behind,
Talking about programs at school that only go to S,
Knowing all the while about my plans for T,

Tipping over last night in the foyer before singing the last
Verse of “Carrie on the Radio,” the one that leaves
Her too sick of the singer to go through the trouble
Of destroying his cigarettes,
Because I’d had the same brand in my

Sketch of “Japanese Spies,”
Which was mainly concerned with speaking
In hushed tones,
Conveying that with shapes in the neck.

You Arrive Here

It is possible the setup will never be completed.
Something behind the trees is probably suffering from arrows.

>organize strands of energy

You are not equipped with Mandala.

>investigate social phenomenon of demonstrative accumulation

The subject of our paper was the sound on your lips
As you entered ceremonial bonds on the bike trail.

>Look under DNA evidence

You see a table set for nine, but the head of the table lacks both teacup and saucer.

>Turn pandemic over

I’m sorry, I don’t understand that command.

>Invert pandemic

The phenomenon of referred pain, a mixed signal resulting in nostalgia for the present.
Superimposed, this loss, upon its own object.

>Take name of fallen comrade

The Comrade has been combined with Inflammable Cloth.

>Drop widower’s letter

This action will be taken when necessary

>Breathe in, hold for 5 seconds, dodge left to avoid uv radiation

The manner of resetting is determines what begins now.
Hopefully and better, you’re master it against the Breaking Patrol.

Easy Cornice Has Dedicated Time

Quarter-blitzed, hashed back, set down- a pepper fragrance
Would ascend into dueling gusts-
Hashed back into numbers,

Scales on a moth’s wing.

You fit your gown and sit upright to showcase Quarter
Lights. A worker lays waste to previous
Scaffolds, starts again.

“Behind the gallery is a space
For lighting anything that you want to.
I could limit you so dearly, thinking on episodes
Passed.”

A border sets the tone for regular meeting- it’s
The border around this painting, stuck with harbor marks,
And we are laughing about texture
Until you seek my tranquil cuticles in repose.

“Step in to cut your ice, and you’ll land farther adrift.”

Green shoots
Unbegun could relieve
Some slipping down creation.