i am a pot-hole
for broken ankles
the words i print
are insane and meaningless
but flow from me they are
though, in a molasses thick trickle
mediocre, overthought
and underachieved
my handwriting is terrible
can this even be read?
will it ever be read?
the girl i love won’t write
the girl i love used to write
until she wrote
  “do not reply to this”
i write her no more
and that

was that.

so…

Who’s that fellow that came, you know, what’s his name?
The one who was quite underweight
He came round last week, with a zit on his cheek
And he mended and painted our gate

Come on, you should know it was you had to show
Him the things that were needing repair
He was ever so lean and not very clean
And was toothless with bright ginger hair

He had no teeth at all he was ever so tall
And was scrawny and lanky and long
He’d no meat on his frame but was awfully game
And for someone so skinny, quite strong

one day to tallahassee
two to yosemite
one to portland
day n a half to denver
border to border
coast to coast
big thumb

eight fucking days
contemplation
along I-35
70 out o kans's city
that reeks o carcass
rot n dog food
okie even worse
       seein images
       masks n
       license plates

Life finally tuned..

There’s a space in my mouth where
a tooth used to be I can feel it with
the tip of my tongue.
There are sounds on my mind
where no sounds used to be
especially when I was young.

There’s a giant belly down there where
no belly ever was I can barely see
the end of my toes. There are things I do
now that I never did before like squirting
medicine up inside of my nose