savor boredom’s
breath
like salted
honey
glaze my page
for days
to
distract from
poise i
lack
as
loafer baked
away in
back.
humour
how’s your cloud?
bird only
i see
feet never reach
branch
braids around
trunk
as
if rooted in
dance
of the dapper
drunk.
on mad quest for
porridge
armed with pot and
bottomless
spoon
and with fervor of
such research
my gut shall be
mush by
noon.
i surmise failure to
thrive
forms a fist like
the glove
fits
loner likely
to be
hit
by self-inflict
stick,
a longing to shed
dad skin
and
seek shiny slit
to slip
in.
so why don’t
i read..
likely it’s paper
allergy-
perhaps the sockets
of my soul
are glutted with
weeds,
a mind shaped seed
between my
teeth,
the perfect
book
was
make belief.
how lacking sleep
left linens
musty
foldless moldy
sheets
may not have chafed
my cheek
had they been
aired to
dry
and not bleached
in heat.
sweater vest, you’re
too tight
and don’t flatter
me right,
wish that i had
refused..
second helpings
last night.
my dime a dozen
bird song,
you gong,
and
move on-
i trill
sonnet,
you vomit,
i rescue
hair-
whisperin’
haiku..
you gag,
do i
inspire..
desire me
too?
hands in the garden 
You must be logged in to post a comment.