People just disappear sometimes.

You may not believe this
but in other places I have readership-
so I didn't think it would bother me
when I long-ago-removed the traffic script (that let me know)
and decided not to let lack or gain of readership influence words

I have to admit, sometimes it gets to me.
Thinking about when I knew. Knew the eyes were watching
Knew the stage was set. It gets to me. because I think you're gone.
Hating to look into the mirror and see the transient natural truth
People just disappear sometimes.

decided not to let
lack or gain
of readership
influence
words?


Yet, here we are
Words and I
wallowing in the web's vast seclusion
I've had the feeling before
the lonliness
of being in a crowded room
I know people just disappear some times
like I know people that know people
and yet it doesn't feel crowded
tonight

I don't want to ask it. I don't want to look into the mirror.
Just in case
it's me that's disappeared

Five minutes in a cramped hole corridor

You know, some-
times I watch them swirl
around,around,around in circles
awaiting descent and I wonder
if they're little pieces of life or death

My little cave questions
wander away almost as quickly
as answer chance awaiting,awaiting, bringing
more questions. they'll melt without blood
Am I following or leading

Puppy Bunny Puppet Dagger Teeth

Hey you.

Lap dog.

Your master said sit.

Really, I wish it weren't so.

Because you want to bite me hard.

And I want to defend myself.

Mutual exhanges can be so healthy.

None the less.

You were told sit.

You listened.

I had nothing to do with that.

Pup.

assassination of painting

I drape your cataclysmic carnival instincts in purple straddled masonic need
A corollary junction bringing supine slither slacked smoke stacks
Joined at the left outer concentric crumbled cortex stoke macks
Take the flavored perchance and you’ll never know mediocrity
That’s what they say anyway a bunch of vine hanging snapdragons
Dangling on the wooden number two pencil damper erased smudge
Maybe it’s not too late to crumple the cackle cackled cacklers font
Or the woven sheets of rainy paper caught in tabled gravity
Either way
You know?

Do you get my drift?

I lost the first couple lines. Even though moments ago they were making
sounds like a skipping record, but the records wasn't skipping.
That's how the song is written.
So
I drink in the vacuous viscous quaffables
and bask in your dialect,
honeyed poison.
naturally divine
openly free for the taking
wrapped up in life's little details and it's just easier to spill it all out
than attempt to unravel the frequencies
A spell of interwoven interlockings
stepped aside from the drift
Do you get my drift?


She looked at me and said "It's over my head"
"You just say that when you don't like my poems."
"No. I just don't get it. It's a bunch of words that don't go together; it doesn't make sense"
"It makes perfect sense"
"Noo.... it's not your fault . . it's . . "
"I'm not saying there's fault. There's isn't fault. You can't be right or wrong."

I attend things. I'm a valet for moments.
parking them away for winding evenings and coutry roads
the winds, the down, the for, the the, victorious night sky
drop a fairy tale with a happy ending for someone
this sidewalk standing and city air breathing karma
has to come home to roost for somebody
Did I just say karma?
I don't even know if I get my drift anymore.

spackled rising moon and snowflaked scenery
just a bunch of words that aren't supposed to go together