Third Party

Sometimes I remove myself from my body so everything is an observation on my own life. And I see everything that I candidmightcouldshoulddidnt do briefly beyond the sight of my day eyes. Third party perspective. But it’s scary sometimes to realize you’re not the center of a story, you’re just a story loaned out from the universe. A refrain. You are the memory of anyone else and the dust between us.

The Lightning

I picture myself doing a hundred things
Whittling away time instead like it never ends
wait for the lightning
from the lowest point in valley
surrounded by giants
Every idea comes to life
and towers above me
Scanning the sky between cracks in the canopy
Down here it never gets wet
Because down here it never rains
Live on in utter comfort
Expect the trees should ask me to climb

Great Hall

My head is a great hall. Empty just long enough to reconsider the purpose of a room this size, until it’s full, like the first 15 minutes of a house party catching up with people you probably knew before. Second or third first impressions, how quickly it crowds. How alive the room with electric breath.

Alt Cinema 3

Once I was an assassin on mission in the street-heat, jungle-city. We walked around with katanas and fell for grey hotel sleep on the floor with the snakes. I sliced one in half, I swung at the other, I got bit on the knee. When it was over they took me outside in a bin with the trash, and my leg went numb. It was a free ride, beautiful city.

Alt Cinema 2

I met a panther. Waiting for me, hidden in a half-torn junkyard shed, post-apocalyptic. Nothing happened, we looked at one another, familiar. He rubbed against me and I could see the aftermath world dust flecked in his black by the hot gold of the sun through tin roof holes. I woke up, feeling my sheets for a message.

And If...

And if
I started from the start
I could climb a mountain
and I’d live at the top
live at the top

And if
I was a builder I could build a house
In a pyramid shape
invite my life to dinner
and we’d stay up late

And if
I could find a fossil
From the T-Rex times
I’d tell every single story
for the make-believe minds

And if
I could make a movie
It would co-star Fox
the dimensional dog
the forever time hops

And if…

Collections

It’s hard to fit in
Houses are collections of
little rooms
I wander through
A brand-new spirit
In the spirit of renewal
I came home for once
For resignation
And four months later I’m not
so far resigned from
the shell I left behind
Still lingering on old conversations
Hopeful on new ones

Airplane Liminal

I’m never actually asleep
on an airplane
I only halfway disappear
with the cool air of
100 other sardines
breathing on me
My eyes are closed, sure
but I can feel every lumberjack
brushing by, leaning tower like,
inches above my face
for their confined travel errands
I’m right here
I’m anywhere else
making epiphital connections
under the hood
I’m wearing a hood
and my headphones faint the roar
in two worlds

The lady next to me is a Dr
I know because I’m a spy
and the font on her laptop is set
to outer space

I unlocked a memory
of my ex
calling me by my whole name
and i let it in

The couple on my other side
doesn’t understand how headphones work
I could help
but I don’t feel like talking
in my liminal state