I live in a bed in a daydream
somewhere far away
from everyone else.
I used to live near the mountains.
I used to live near a flooding creek.
I used to live in an arboretum, a meadow,
a high desert valley that opened floral every
morning and shone in constellations
all the trash cans get stolen
so people just bag up their unwanted shit
and throw it on the street:
litter bags, pizza boxes, futon springs,
mb drive, colonies of lone shoes,
they throw it on the sidewalk.
On a warmer day, if you happen to be walking
to the El,
you get a whiff of everyone’s
It smells like government fingers
and quiet hurts.
I live in a concrete cell.
I stubbed my toe on a brick
with the head of a barbie doll
I didn’t see squatting there
when I passed by Arizona.
she was breathing, but without
the whole town smells like industrial sleet and
the rotting heads of fading idealists
crushing pipe dreams with the heel of their feet,
and the saliva of the ones chasing the
we need an escape.
when I shut my eyes,
I dream of nothing but mountain lions
and syringes and gun-shaped starts
crawling through snow hills at night
and in the day,
I’m swallowed alive
by some polar vortex that’s moving south
to catch me when I’m skipping
when I should have been frozen in place,
sculpted out of ice cube tears
and rotten banana peels
that should have been fried
but now they’re just black and yellow and
some kind of gray,
some speed bumps of ice
that slow me down so I don’t slip
on whatever it is I want to say to the woman
and I’m left in those piles of garbage too
trying not to
sob, or end it
trying to hold space
for the unhinging cages
that are bound to start popping
open and becoming a cacophony
and I don’t know what it means
but I hope I’m in the right spot
feel it all.
(we have to get it)
to lay on a pillow of cloud,
of quiet surrender.
Philadelphia, I cried in my confusion,
we have got to get God
or we have got to
get the hell
out of here.