may words/1

Sometimes I think and really believe there are
One hundred minutes in an hour
And so when it says 4:55 that it is only half past four
About
And
I know I am wrong about that
And I know I am wrong about
So many other things
Like thinking you and I could be
Could be
Be
So I rearrange the ahnds on the clock to 4:75
And know its been 20 minutes and I
Have 25 more minutes to express
More thoughts (right, wrong, wrongight)

I want to melt myself into a silver ring
For you to wear on your finger
Cary me around smile down at me and say
You’re pretty
And someone will ask
That ring is so pretty where did you get it
My friend gave it to me,

And I am the ring
And I am the friend
And I am you
And I am the inquirer
I am the sunrise
I am the sunset
Illuminating and dusking you
With magenta, orange, glow
You know
That all I got is these words
Im hanging on to, hanging with this rope
Hanging on this hope
In words in you in me
In life
Connected interbeing so
And I sort out the platinum guts spewing purity
From the fake gold ones puking impurity
And I wander more in words
In clouds of dreams
In sandcastles of meaning
That always lose grip on the grains of one another
And all fall down
Making blurb blubs not headlines
Like some third world country
Twenty years after the fact that oh
We raped their country and privatized
The life out of earth and made it hell
And I still chew gum, eat too much,
Am ungrateful am guilty am a consumer
Am unmindful am weak am soft am so much
I should not be and not good
Not bad just a sick luke warm snail in a puddle
A mazy mob runs me over
And I slip on a slimy veil of superficiality
And smuggle myself through the world of surfeit
Make believe that I care
Make believe that I dare
The world, the you, the us
With these words that are rants
No prophetic chants
They are my soul spewing
They are the water in the well bucket
Eternally dropped and pulledup
Slake us slake us
Don’t take or break us
The world has seen that before
And is too busy getting the agency to get
The clean up crew back to aisle 2
To get the mops and clean up the bones and goo
And while the splatter scatters onto matters of surfeit
Of sickness and what
I just stant there, a witness
A fucking photographer, clicking the moment with
Words with letters on a labtop made in ___
Shipped with, by oil
Opened up by the hands of a woman paid less than a mans
Put on a shelf by a part time Latino who cant ask for more dough
In a store lit with electricity through a wire through coal burning somewhere
In a country hissing ENERGY CRISIS FOOD CRISIS MORTGAGE CRISIS WAR CRISIS like it’s the time and this raging inertia rubs too hard and chafes our eye lids
And
Will I think about the moment the tree was cut down to
Be energy for me, to give oxygen to my needy needy lungs
And my steady heart that just keeps going – hey, thanks heart
From some tree that was chosen by the consumer gods to be energy not paper

I think I don’t want to do anything anymore for you academia
You have squeezed me dry
I am a juiceless grapefruit, lemon, lime
Picked by the hands of a child, held with a smile
Sitting at the base of a tree, peeling the rind of the day
Sitting, fixated and gay in the moment
In love with all regardless of …
Without face, with a respiring story
Of hope of human connection- reaching upward is looking into the
Ocean of your eyes and walking on the wooden boards of your soul
Through time, space, ocean waves and sand grains
Into euphoria the moment an apogee, a sacrosanct crest
The moment
Ah
I breathe
And transform my world