(lifeforms) The Number You Have Reached Has Been Disconnected

perfectly painted
my pained reflection
noticing names
fanning old flames
in the garden of imperfections

Amongst the mold, old stories
and historic lines
my mind rolls back,
dirt floors
shacks
the wooden forms
that formed
the bristles
in the attacks

is it my name
or the other name
is my face in the same place
or is it smashed in again
your alleyway drunk
vagrant's demise
the bag of mystery
in the he must have been sad
for some reason
you know, don't you know
don't you quiet now, leaf-less, lifeless
lifeform, formless, before the storm,
raining non-stop,
soda laid over playbills fizzing into the gutter of the sunday mornings
of eternal nowheres
the last few bubbles
erupting and bursting
into the dank
drunk tank
darkness.

-------

In the void, cement tastes the same as rainbows

-------

What wasted words will I share with someone who won't want to remember me?

-------

...

-------

...and then?

Tiptoe (In A Quiet City)

the creaking floor
unbrushed dust under husks
of dead bugs in the window sills glistening
wind blows, quiet / mercy / set for sailing days
little boy dreams if freedom
instilled with science
sirens, always sirens
in the dark hours
the bodies fall
like clock points
like victimless heroes
laid out to be weathered by the caustic rains

peaches gleam
in the repetition of harvest
captured in this painting
creatures scurry by in the measured hush
of the silos
the pomegranates crushed under
hooves of horses marching in random figures
ghosts of cowboys
riding leather and burlap carpets
dancing in the sky
in ethereal antiquity
riding into silence
sun forgotten trees.

autumn early
here now to earth
any one thing
kept in stasis
too long
left for
forgetting
laughter
running
jumping
standing
barely
quiet
eventually. /

Considerations On The Rolodex Incident

world war 2 buddies
who will listen as I talk
what is this house even worth
nothing but a last sleeping november
soft graces that once filled these spaces
a tired hand holding a lit cigarette
no more places left to go
no more reason
for doubt
for a mind
that yearned to soar
but feared flight
will I learn to travel
light
will I learn to travel
by the aligned constellations
I watch for
in the night

me and sailors
me and my guitar
just a lonesome road
you know
the ones you read about?

how did we get here
without a map and no idea
just some bitter idea
of perfection
that eventually requires
correction
lay a little here
and a bit with spite
and a little with each person
 in your rockets
we're all astronauts
exploring the unknown
travellign through astral snow
learning a little bit
as we go.