My mom came to visit for a couple of days and we snuck in some writing prompts.  I’m grateful that she still comes to see me despite the complicated feelings provoked by being in Wellsville.

Untitled

will they notice I take things 

one bite at a time 

off the table we call nature and the paper we call pride 

will they notice I take things

one bite at a time 

off the branches we call hope and brambles we call mine

will they notice I take things 

one bite at a time 

off the model we call tomorrow and the cabinet we call time

Apology

I thought I understood we agreed

that faith was hollow and scorn wad sturdy 

that god was towering because of the backs he crippled 

that cowards believe what the clear headed invent 

that the subconscious sees signs 

and the ego sees symbols 

but the world is of out making 

that we don’t belong on our knees 

I thought I understood we agreed 

that the world was magic
and intention a potion 

that that experience was the memo
and creation the retort

Ode to Doctor Who

I rise and I fall

its a tear or a start 

a creep or a crack 

a part of a world I know from the screen 

the hustle and bustle of time trodden folly 

I see the seems consume me one flake at a time

its time that lays lurking 

in the cuts and the stitches
of a story cut down to a playable portion 

in this fabric lays dormant all the sources of nature 

that are tempting their captors 

and fleeing the feeding
of this feast set to time 

Its a rise and a run 

an expectation of glory 

brought in from the cold
and left on the table right next to the door. 

I kick off the treads which shed part of there soles walking in and out of my dreams
and i’m up and about until my eyes start to drop
and I never even noticed the room up ahead

Daily Troubles

They ask for a touch 

or they grab
or they snatch 

there is a rhythm to life on a leash 

a tug or a pop or a click or a clack 

I’m in a world of rules mute to my title

they come and take 

but I know where to go 

follow the lead and ill take you all home 

Death

i was missed by the reference 

setting down a body in the shape of a phone 

caught in a operation
to an alien interface

the place where contacts collect and digits retire 

in a world where memory is priced per square foot, 

but is too late to acquire