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.

Privy to all the snakebites and other on-goings that will catch your foot if you step off the sidewalk,

even for a second.

Completely unsure where the hyphens go, or how fast lightspeed is,

but we are aware of the snakes and their fears too.

Cords that look just like them,

frayed fiber optic cables,

They came in yellows and reds and some have prongs, and some are even venomous too.

JUST LIKE THEM

The sign reads,,,,

DO NOT DIG

is all the snakes see, and what’s before them,

and what is under the arm of the passerby.

The missed calls are stuck to our shoes,

and the stray pings that rattle off cell towers and other miscellaneous pylons,

The ones howl at the moon.

Like the snakes, I want to work on rolling my tongue back up into my mouth,

So that it wont touch the ground, or the snakes.

and tying my shoes, tying my snakes.

so that I wont feel any other way, besides what the sign says,

DO NOT DIG.

There are two things we got right.

There is one tripwire we stepped over, and the other tripwire we stepped right over,

completely over,

and still we fell in.

and with it?

everything else,

to be exact.

but we still got it right.

I am the one left looking up holding both of my broken ankles, and my breath.

My equilibrium and all the others are still intact;

The balance beam is too far way to know for sure.

Still being taken advantage down here, and still bleeding,

still spun off my axis

still down to the bone, still hiding down here.

We closed the door,

perfectly,

in harmony

and we all knew it.

The crowd knew it too. they always did.

Not in a sad typical way,

like the movies,

but instead

from A GLASS CASE FROM FAR AWAY

dancing outside,

a prospect that we didn’t know was in reach.

because it keeps coming, like the rain.

That basin, and your lucky we got this far

but it catches it all,

I get it now, the charity, the step back everyone has to take.

but mostly me, alwAYs.

all that advice,

all that snow,

That is the formula, forbade from me, who are you?

and everyone else you got to know when to subdue the harmony,

not sure what what column were in

but well scramble to get there.

This is coming all at once.

roman numerals or hot baths or times new romans or

none of the above.

Helsinki but still likely to live forever, despite the anottions or the dayh of the week

or what time it was,

and still legible and likely to live forever ,

even if don’t believe in it, or see it

your still the godfather; your still bravery, incarnate .

‘ll quit when I’m ahead///

sneak up on me,

opened up, foaming at the mouth.

spilt on the couch,

foaming at the mouth,

falling asleep in the spill,

and waking up wet.

Running out of things to say and things to spill

or spell.

Keeping score,

Keeping dry,

but everything is drenched now.

We are all too much for this, still foaming at the mouth ,

at this moment, in the beginning.//

That intro that we always look forward to.

the windchimes,

those chords.

We are much louder than either of those.

Purge whatever is left inside,

the errors, fuck it just get it all out.

whatever I didn’t spell, or regurgitate ,

or turn up , or meddle,

or mettle

and pretend I understand the difference.

We found the end wasn’t quite as clear.

We found the end , about as clear as sand dunes in the distance.

Before silver and gold; and as clear as what preceded both of those.

Preceding torture and preceding the wind, too.

Two separate things thing entirely; two desperately lonely things.

given the chance to be on the right side,
I turned my Judas ear towards the noise,

to the spaces,

to the traffic; to the apostles .

It’s not clear who or what’s left,

the pages torn out of this particular mystery novel,

right before the end .

We are fading to black quicker than I thought, and the sound isn’t quite as clear now.

I am afraid I wont get it right; all the static and the stories I cant get out the right way,

all the spare parts,

all sounding the same, lately.

We found it right before we finished, at dawn, we did it.

We found the answer.

I am plural.

before the sun came up,

many spaces apart……

I am plural.

none of those stories though,

before any more good ideas, before any answers.

I am poetic.

I can type without looking, at certain points,

even when its dark and

and I came up with the end without looking because it sounded similar,

I came up with something,

before I could see anything else in front of me,

or by reading ahead to the last page, by reading anything.

so there’s that ,

there’s always that