leaving normal avenue
07.15.2016-07.31.2016
caught open in the get down going notebook-under and when the quiet doesn’t come you go harder, you go duh, you go deep into the park, you go into the next life. the doors of the shed open quietly because you’ve gone late night kitten mode, you’ve gone satiated goat mode & good for it, there’s nothing left to chew. you get out of your head and into the sea. you’re starting to look alike (you & you). you’ve gone somewhere the mail doesn’t deliver but the letter arrives anyway, you bask in it unopened as long as you can. inside the envelope a beating heart, a series of scrappy reminders not yet written. you put your whole body on the page. you save a utensil and spoon a beast. you chatter and nuzzle. you’re your own mamma bird. you’re your own father time. you’re a handsome fellow hooking leaves. you cut and confuse. you lift something raw to your lips. you sip something hot. you ready the altar of your writing down, it’s a poetics of what’s on hand. you sit down in the coffee shop and write for ten years. you keep a curl’s eye view on existence. you take the self portrait inside the next life after moving a queen mattress with your small car, you & you finally making a go of it.