5.4.12

tetris, bush, and pizza faces.



When abroad,
the most important thing
is that you didn't vote for Bush.

You could speak in the languages of all men
and of angels
and move mountains
but if you voted for Bush,
you will only be a noisy cymbal.

I miss the road.
I miss everywhere east of here.
I play tetris in the morning with boxes from sysco truck.
I do my workout before the sunrises
with bags of flour and sugar on my shoulders.
I cross this bridge at 5:30.
people give me money at the end of the week.


but summer is coming,
and with it adventure,
and sun-screen that smells like lunch-meats.
and sea-captains who smell like broccoli stems.

this hope, this restlessness,
it comes in waves of sleep and sleeplessness.
I smiled when benton said
that 'many an idle dream
is wishing for a home of sleep like yours
to happen in.'

Maybe only some people exist.
and this country full of
red white and blackhead spangled children is
a reflection on a the wall of an arcade fire anthem.
my body is a cave. and a cage.
but i am content with coffee, love, hip-hop, wood,
and my own diegesis.



No comments:

Post a Comment