No poem
No write

admittedly
it was about that
time
when nothing but empty rags
get all dolled up
with not a thing really
to do

it
spun around and around
until
was the only thing left to do
that night
it took us away,
but
left everything else
  alone

grabbed at the bones
  only bags now
known knows
I know
allot of things
none of it
can bring about
  the weather
  the rain
  the resin

it
just popped off the assembly
line
ripe for a kid's
good time
half a world away

it
fits just fine
above
  the nest
  the clouds
  the electrons roar
idle are our
eyes
left to wander
when the sound surrounds

zoom
formations
dot to dot
from a to zeta
nothing is left in between

hush up the phone lines
spill out into the nights living room
invaded with open ended plot lines
cascaded the sermon
piled upon
the unicycle

new board of electives
fashion at top speeds
from the moment of the sprint
rushed along the line
and
a romantic invasion

swept a roman foot soldier
across
the lines on that map
Caesar becomes nothing
  salad dressing
  a halloween party
once a year the earth circles
right past
  god
  a good juice bar
  a toga
  the lamp post

we all get lucky
once
or a while
about time
the cracks on the wall
grew their independence
like
the slime in the bath tub
strike now
what kind of feeling
it leaves
in its wake

reconcile with the night before
  the knees get week
  the heart gives out
happens more than once in a life time

cause there is
no feelings left
the body can care about
  the world
  seems to stop
  turning
when the good people pass away
fungus forms from these
sentences
lift up the moon
with out understanding
that it doesn't sink beneath the sheets
it stalls under the canopy of flowers
like a bride, this moon
is half away of two worlds
and the tides may never tell us anything about
what she thinks of our
monopoly

go
away
write
it down
if anyone cares
good
if not
great
poems
are personal
and
so am
i