okay. telescoping. a hotel was once sinkholed. kitestring: a verb i am not doing. halo for breezes. a heart was once a spool unwound. a soldiering of ants crooks the angling. past a window i am opening. it is strange that my city could give way on whim. best not to dwell. did you ever forget what the ocean was like? i am an ocean. april fools, i am actually an evolution of molecules made only mostly of water. a hotel once was full of people and then it wasnt. and then the ground was. i suppose if one was to fly a kite high enough, with a breeze strong enough, one could get to anywhere one wanted. i am dollars to donuts a giant bird foaming at the mouth with love. let me steal you an ice cream truck. let me blow you a kiss so hard the county turns tornado watch. if this whole entire earth is an anthill what would you be proudest of building? if this whole joke of us is not actually a joke but a truth as the sun is a truth then what do we do about all the land before, between us, past us.


hurried glades of us/a river boat/with no wake/and a cocoon to lock/away light in/can you smell what i smell/a moth wing beating/dusting over ceiling/a road is only a road/when you careen down anything/i am driving a forklift/into the space where my sorrow lays boobytrapped/and lifting the entire contraption/into a large yellow furnace/will you gather twigs/will you remain long enough for the ash to spill out//

when is there not a window sill/to rest your chin on/remember that skylight?/i am building it in my face/i am letting the light in/you have had a dark winter/the leaves you threw me are still green//

if that wont die/then i can save anything/before we hurl into furnace/make sure my cape is not in the rubbish mix/make sure i can find a phonebooth/to become a hero in/is that what it takes/a hero getting pudgy/with a fucking skylight in his face

writing a poem a day for april, kickin myself in the pants (because i cant effectively kick my ass hard it enough it seems)