This crescendo which we have hit before,

looks better at night

more complete, more competiv3,

closer to sterling sliver now more than ever.

It fades in the day, with the day; seize the day,

in the light, floating away; tarnished.

Washed ashore,

with the day.

We’ll celebrate the victories,

and the knockouts,

the ones on dry land and the ones at sea.

The dreams we don’t remember,

and the knockouts we try to forget;

with the days bleeding, in between the margins.

I should have maintained my lane,

my property line,

my topography.

, I should have been more careful where I started, and how.

It always about me, and its the last time I’ll change; or disembark.

without looking or wanting to look, ahead or behind,

without gathering at the capital, or meeting at the coast, in secret.

I am light,

bending in on myself,

racing myself,

perpetual streaks of blue,

coastal streaks,

losing streaks,,,,

Falling forward and then dissipating into mist.

not really considering anything, except for how the soft corduroy feels on my legs.

on the island,

across my face,

the contested city, that took so long to reach,

staring into the screen, into the sun?

and all of Parma seemingly staring back at me,,,

with our sunglasses on, and the look on their face,

staring back at me

so violent .

so blue.

I cant remember all the titles,

so we may use some twice,

but the lights in the furniture store are still on and they always are,

even at night, especially at night.

The lights catch your eyes and the sofas and the unlit lamps and and some the choices that have been made ,

the light catches passivity and stray dogs, forgotten in the rain,

your tears,,,

the light catches up to all of it.

Peel off all the operations,, the imperfections,

in any order,

the square root of something.

Rip the scars and the scabs off right along with the landscape,

coming back over and over , all at once.

asking for more time, all at once.

and fewer landscapes, all at once.

Returning to the house with the high grass,

and encouraging me to remember the green vases,

and never forget them….how could I?

But I did.

and somehow there was a tunnel under it all,

under me and through my veins and the smoke and the peeling windows,

with each keystroke,

two different stories conversations took place,

I can grow stronger or more fearful ,

;;;;and I never did.

I’ll have to ingest all this dread, and navigate the tunnels to, and mind my veins, and the vases.

I just thought I should say it out loud.

Drifting off to the aquatic, gurgling sounds of the buzzing dishwasher,

there is a lot to unpack,,,,

a lot to remember,,,,

Ignoring the wet floor signs,

I’m talking, walking right by it,, without a thought.

I’m taller than this, bigger than that.

Strung up with moderation, worried that you wont understand the sport,

and hung up on dreams,,,,

Cant understand the sport , or even see the ball clearly .

cant understand why the dreams come and go,

cant understand why you’d start a sentence that way.

Despite the volume and the density of the playbook, and not being able to see the ball clearly.

Despite not being able to reach the smoke detector that desperately needs batteries,

despite having never being able to detect carbon monoxide in the first place,

You choose how you descend , and in which fashion,

its always all about the volume ,,,,,,

or the ball or your feet,

or the dead and dying batteries

or the tasteless, odorless winter,

either way,,,,

I am not sure what makes it good,

or if it is, or will be or

has been, already.

or why I like reading it back, sometimes

and it doesn’t make sense other times,

or why we spend the time, in kingdoms.

Were better off keeping it all, keeping everything outside, in kingdoms.

With the creeping black dread that if your not careful you’ll slip on

and the creeping clack clouds that if your not careful you’ll slip on

never being able to sit still,

and always changing my tune,,

to match the colors behind me,

getting my hopes up,

to match the colors behind me.

The fleeting thoughts, they bleed through, and remain permemant,

visible on my hands days and days later.

We keep all of that outside,

with the dogs who are relatively unknown ,

with that one light that is always out,

and the sweetest songs and the winds and dial tones,

they are sold out, outside too.

Legs and feet finding new ways to move faster

under water

as I learn how to swim, to consistently dream.

My feet Dropping harder onto the pavement and onto the base paths,

darting quicker

between dusty shadows and

the murky runoff.

Where either ends up isn’t important, so long as they are buoyant;

The comparisons,

the lists,

the confidence ,

All of it running wild now,

obscured by blood red stop sign,

and a beating heart.

You can tell I am a fan,

you can tell I am running wild,

even if we’ve seen this episode before.

Making me quite again

back into a shell, but my arms are still exposed.

We’ll try and think of a title when we are closer to the end

when we get more ammunition.

one that will awaken me , catch me in its web,

one that will drive someone crazy.

It’s midnight again ,

over and over,

it was yesterday and today and tomorrow, too.

All that peeling wallpaper,

midnight over me,

wrapped around me,

( Saturday is over now)

Gigabytes over me,

awakening the quiet,

and I am digital forever,

a lingering soul, hung up on Wednesday.

The landing, the night; just right.

Thriving on mistakes and our heels that hurt from mostly our retreat,

from backpedaling, away from the ordinary.

away from all the pivoting, and the dancing, and the sword fights,

but were I’m thankful we got this far.

In these clothes,

breathing these breaths

with these teeth,

drooling all the way through,

past the end credits even,

with those stab wounds.

Despite the spaces and all it took to get here.

Sifting though rib cages and right angles all to drive ourselves to the right answer,

buried into the sand next to my head ,

wishing I could breathe in the smell of the cut grass,

despite not having an end, or a head or even grass to cut.

despite not having a tail, at all,

despite not having a head tail, the entire time.

Up and under,

indecipherable, but at the same time,

We don’t know what’s been said

but we still pass the dragons. ,

and speculate.

My watch is probably fast.

The ones right off the rack,

the ones I set aside,

but that they

they are not.

the ones right off the rack, that is.

the ones I set aside.

The writhe with guilt, but they make my heart throb.

like me ,

like always,

always late,

up and

under.