draft from the window black panes

good morning again your hand into the bottom of this carved out pumpkin the day before thanksgiving and travels about, rising, falling, wind pipes, television shows, laughter, disappointment, expecting to drink water from a glass with no bottom. she receives a snake bite and dies on the dirt grown, face swollen, quiet last words. poison in her cheekbones. time to record what you can, put your hatred on the back burner, bowl a higher score, live passionately, not with blue lips, life gone, bat hanging upside down, bite a dog, reek havoc on mother and son, expect an end. captors, camp fires, gladstone tires. four or five nights and a row now I consistently cannot breathe not like I should, mountains, not mole hills.

umbrella shelter from downpour but still poor, still damp. sailing. trip with your dad in your memory. got lost at an air show, planes flew overhead, you cried, panicked. think back on all the places you’ve called home, and they were home, then. then again, tossing and turning. discomfort. pea under the bottom mattress, ten beneath. the princess kissed the prince. a war started, an electrical storm. bloodshed over snow. date in a movie theater based on a true story with a twist, the director’s prerogative.

chill over
nighttime bones
draft
from the window
black panes
alien eyes large
a myth a tv show
an absolute wacko
in the morning
like it or not
an area
gets shot up
emotions cannot cope
flare for
the irrational
full town decision
new rules
what you wear
must listen to
and enforce hymns
sponsored by soda vendors
garbage in and out
a mechanism
don’t ask questions

monkey clangs his symbols
blank thought encouraged
you saw and were
burned by lights in the night
where does
this lead?

he tried to find a
safe place in himself
where he could
reason well again
but it’s true
as she said truth:
sickness is deeper
than coughing
and loss of sleep

crushed seeds
cursed lately with lemons
crunched ice cubes
in yellowed teeth

winter begins with leaves
hits heavy with snow
father hits
with belt
so you get
an upbringing

I would like to
trade in my tradition
for
something
much, much better

but I can feel you
staring at me
that we don’t speak
the same language
but the currency
is the same

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