I want to sleep on Alone like a bed
charmed by hunger and pure
clarity just gushing
new eczema deleted
again
my skin isn’t meant for Dried Up
Drafty Here
the studio feels like a grimy shape
with dirty strands
loose like a banana’s
trashy and hoarded
irrelevant, badly colored,
temporary threads
I can write one line in its honor
I can will a dream in absence
of anyone/thing
but my sad thirsty skin
attached fully and in theory
to the rest
usually
untethered from clean
and order, breezing by
but to think of a cute apron
and a mopped floor I die a little
for a taste
bundled on the boy couch
the sun leaves me
sideways
some big sense of
no relief
keeps us rolling,
seeking solutions
and there are none
besides the rolling
in the meantime
a dream for meantime
we walked all over the continent
first stopping at a Greek beach
was the water real or
a blanket?
a family restaurant
in a house, the mob?
we ordered octopus
and it came in big, wavy sheets
like chicharron, I think
it was charred and delicious
we passed around the sheet
and the family who made it
also took bites
something to the effect of
this is how we do it here
it was easy to understand
and I was charmed by the ease
but some brutal, sporty element
a pyramid perhaps
kept me sharp
unrolling the presence
of acute waking absence
