Don’t Go

Peel it away

I mean the sounds in the night

Prancing need not be ladylike

Heavy fanning and cold days coming

This is what I remember

Racing across a casino floor with every care in every world

You count what you’ll count and I’ll stand by

This whistle, that siren, that four on that floor

Where’ve you gone? Where’re you now?

How will we get our mouth around it? When will we put all the good back in?

This is about dirt and dust

This is about trajectories and everything after

This is a myth and this is the telling of a myth

When becoming is done, this is what we are

Potatoes Are Back

It’s a simple spell were you never second in line,

And so much of wrestling is retraining your reflexes.

Habit is to habitat as Barbara is to barbiturates?

That ain’t right.

How’s’about forgetful Sundays and sunbeams shuttled with care?

Fending off fright with complicated confection?

Drumming up support for collective action to counter a century of bad ideas?

Better us than them, as we shuffle into the shadows.

But that which was and will be will be that and that and that again.

But the sky is above you and beside you and below you because the world is round and we’ve known that a long time.

But we’re all tied up with exceptions upon exceptions.

But most tables and chairs, but fingers, but the seasons, but surely more.

There were so many and we make it fewer so you can deal with it.

Will there be ease? Will there be whipping?

All the Threes

Sometimes, sometimes.

I’m still not processing the still loss.

The breakdown of things broken down,

Forgetfulness in the face of horrible times,

Leave behind, leave behind, leave behind.

There’s the one that won’t go on.

There’s the interruption of what we should’ve done.

There’s hindsight owning your ass.

We spot it up again and again.

Sometimes it’s a drain and other times there’s a garbage disposal.

Here’s what you were aiming for, only flayed, thank you very much.

Drift is real.

A hole in the ground is real.

What I mean to say, is I miss you.

What Have

Frequent floating session IPAs seize opportunity

So many how many like ten but no like six more like

Why isn’t there a White Sox Nation?

After the whole spectrum is liberated and every last field stormed and you get a season and you get a season and you get a season

We all look under our seats

Reflexes are a stemmed thing and we’ve remained trainable

All the pandas were sent back to China

And there’s a card with your name on it.

Amazing

Even while so many other things are a choice and so many choices are being made right now

Tear is a choice

Lead is a choice

Cleave is a different choice

Which brings us back unexpectedly to seize and we’re down for travel

Put it up, put it up

Kit, kindling, now you’ll have them, kinder, kinder, kinder still.

Different vs. Differently

There’s fruit and there’s conflict

Their mess doesn’t need to be your mess

They’re different, they’re better, they’re off to market

Initially, togetherness, publicly before communally

This circle made of dots, that circle made of string

And then the Great Uncertainty and the even greater dissolution

But what was lost when we smashed so many myths?

The sun rose and we continued with a little less but hearts full of hope

We’d had clean water before and we had clean water now

We were all here, well, almost all

And we found the New Beginning just as quiet as heat loss

We found lightness to be frightening and some wanted to run and some ran

But we found just how easy it was for everything to get heavy again and quickly

A better heavy this time, but surely not the last

Sanders Again

It’s jobs all the way down I mean it’s a job the sanding

Ranks come in all sizes and learning how to spell “Wednesday” does a thing to your brain that’s an important thing

We spin and we make do, yes. We catalog joys and harms. We see things repeatedly sometimes to the point of unseeing them.

I mean, governments come and go, as do their styles, their pressures, their presence.

What you pry from what, paying attention to both, the start of something.

Another year and gravity’s still with us, it’s ok, you can exhale.

Another year, another year, another.

What they say about siblings. What they say about heat death. What they say about well water.

When you get a feel for it you’ll risk forgetting something important the rest of your life.

I don’t make the rules.