yesterday i saw a woman counting prayers on her rosary while riding the bus.
later, a lunch lady threw her hair net in the grass.
they strike me as sights i may want to remember.

i am nothing new.

my spine cracks over temporary walls.

you wouldn't know white from grey in this dingy light

yellow on the days of the lamp shade

i adapt.

and i, i will testify

to the nothingness of the non-

it is, then it is not

and so will you

we are nothing new.

evol words.

love.

and amiri baraka, he knew.

and corso, he just threw it out the window.

but these are all just names,

non-'s

fading lights on the white wash

invoking criminal squanderings

and night,

what of it?

non- plus geography divided by time!

and time,

well he is nothing new.

conducting tricks in his old age

he'll talk you into almost anything

you don't want to do.

sometimes, after a cold beer and a long day, I think, it would be so nice to fall into something greater than me. something like love or something like being sucked into the universe with a small swoosh and a quick bloop. it is nice, the feeling of secrecy, sitting thinking alone about nothing and about longing. about the human condition really. the absolutism of a particular feeling in a particular moment.

i have forgot what it is like to live in the real world.

get naked.