I always leave the party so lucid
never drenched in it/who’s
cleaning up
even my bulletin board is earnest
woke up from a big [party]
no memory but will write
it down on a paper
towel, who’s
cleaning—
to walk out on my mind
into the dirty world
free of consequence
starting to write
theoretically
starting to sprout
starting to be
an old, hourly way
this place at 1, 2, 3 pm
1a
1b
1c
starting to think,
theoretically, about
how the cowboy said
never go to your room
in the daytime
the birdsongs
from the wings
the theater
of the livelong day
the way its all moving
the wind
delivering
warbling the rosebush
petting my curtains
I’m blaming everything
on the wind today, everything!
its clinging outfit
I am the snowcap
of mountain 1a
empathy measured
in obvious veins
the look of my bed
[the stacked edge]
has me hungry for
another character
I once played a lost boy
and now
my minds? been gone
a vagabond, she visits
phone to feel party
as for the sun
it’s earlier across the street
working for them like
a good oven, in circles
I move my chair to chase it
they throw balls through its rays
