Dream

Fish

The Ones With Arms And Legs

Fly And Snail

A Sort Of Reunion

This monkey morning haze, underneath the pepper man, keeps our restless eyes rolling. All the soda got drank up. I did it, I admit it, I’m a child in this story. Hooray. Watch the way I stand on my head and call out to people who make crow sounds. They rock the sun look, get tan, get Zen, say sure. I’ll strum this here, I had one more night with you, before we ever met. Nothing was total, or awesome. We went fast, the desert made us handsome and pretty. When I went back to your town, I was taller than most and stared at. I liked it for a while, as the monkey man. All your religion fell away and you looked relieved, while I pulled your hair. You held my hand and sang a little tinderbox. I needed help quitting everything.

Wearing The Same Hat

All these tanks, thinking longer about less and less, it’s how we get to our shows. Then it’s harder and it’s the way out, you live it without being home. You don’t think it but I do, as I live in windows. We talk, we birds, tattered and loving, but each day fries us with too many choices. I get my hand up and the days glance at it, measuring everything down. Even lights stop, briefly, the faster things get. This is a moment out of my life that no one will know completely, despite how I record it. Memory is merely a cut and paste job, but swampy. It’s good to be between the faraway and the close, even if it’s only possible. Down the line we’ll use honesty to make things, mistakes, and crack the glowsticks. I know we can if we shout softly to each other, in gracing breaths.

This House