Leaning up against
All cardinal motions
When frozen
Otherwise roiling out,
Wraithsmoke:
Exhalation compressed
Or otherwise decompressed
By a slight flaw
In the mathematics
Of distance
Washes over
The battered trails
And curdled mud,
I had a bad day once.
I found my way down through
The hideous freeways
Clanking and guttering
To a very long, silent stretch
Of dangerous rocksand
Deserted,
For such things existed then
On the edge of Mall-hell
Where the riptide threatened
And generated signs of warning
Against itself
I think I dipped my toe in
And then dived
And paddled around
And wallowed
In the deadly contagion of
Riptide
Without the slightest
Inoculation of
Lifeguard
And the grains of rocksand
Though not your classical
Powders of seaside comfort,
Were the very diamond fragments
The very purest remnant
Of any bang
Big or otherwise
That might have shattered them
Into such a raw state
There by the unfettered
Desert of no boundary
And I think now
That I knew the future:
Walking by a corner several times
That had some wispy tree
With cranberries in it
Ought to paint that tree
Somebody
It has a pretty good
Corner under it…
And I think then
That I lost my
Fear of sharks
Knowing that
I had become one
Of the riptides myself
Such a pretty place
Down through the Clanking
Beyond the edge of the Hell-mall
I remember that place
As the definition
Of battleship gray
Without the blood
And without the fire and kamikazes
Just a shard-diamond sharksoup
In a free-wailing whirlpool
Of no fear…
I did have a sinking feeling
Because the loss of then
Was happening
Then as it is now
But I didn’t have vagrant books
Or planted thoughts
Or any possessions
Beyond prurient organs
And a blob of clothing
Left to the vengeance of any tide
And that loss of then
Still seems to bother me now
When cranberries don’t grow
In trees
On just any corner
Just on my corner now
When the exhalations beyond cardinal action
Blow me out of the present
Into all other shattered winters
Of loss and never
But that wasn’t
The bad day part…
Actually,
I’m just not sure at all
There might have been
Some demented
Woman involved…
Maybe she spruced up
Some quarrel
To ruin the day for all time
I should try to remember…
I’d like to count her in too
You know
Maybe name her
A frozen fiend
Of the bad mathematics
Maybe call her
A smoke friend.
All cardinal motions
When frozen
Otherwise roiling out,
Wraithsmoke:
Exhalation compressed
Or otherwise decompressed
By a slight flaw
In the mathematics
Of distance
Washes over
The battered trails
And curdled mud,
I had a bad day once.
I found my way down through
The hideous freeways
Clanking and guttering
To a very long, silent stretch
Of dangerous rocksand
Deserted,
For such things existed then
On the edge of Mall-hell
Where the riptide threatened
And generated signs of warning
Against itself
I think I dipped my toe in
And then dived
And paddled around
And wallowed
In the deadly contagion of
Riptide
Without the slightest
Inoculation of
Lifeguard
And the grains of rocksand
Though not your classical
Powders of seaside comfort,
Were the very diamond fragments
The very purest remnant
Of any bang
Big or otherwise
That might have shattered them
Into such a raw state
There by the unfettered
Desert of no boundary
And I think now
That I knew the future:
Walking by a corner several times
That had some wispy tree
With cranberries in it
Ought to paint that tree
Somebody
It has a pretty good
Corner under it…
And I think then
That I lost my
Fear of sharks
Knowing that
I had become one
Of the riptides myself
Such a pretty place
Down through the Clanking
Beyond the edge of the Hell-mall
I remember that place
As the definition
Of battleship gray
Without the blood
And without the fire and kamikazes
Just a shard-diamond sharksoup
In a free-wailing whirlpool
Of no fear…
I did have a sinking feeling
Because the loss of then
Was happening
Then as it is now
But I didn’t have vagrant books
Or planted thoughts
Or any possessions
Beyond prurient organs
And a blob of clothing
Left to the vengeance of any tide
And that loss of then
Still seems to bother me now
When cranberries don’t grow
In trees
On just any corner
Just on my corner now
When the exhalations beyond cardinal action
Blow me out of the present
Into all other shattered winters
Of loss and never
But that wasn’t
The bad day part…
Actually,
I’m just not sure at all
There might have been
Some demented
Woman involved…
Maybe she spruced up
Some quarrel
To ruin the day for all time
I should try to remember…
I’d like to count her in too
You know
Maybe name her
A frozen fiend
Of the bad mathematics
Maybe call her
A smoke friend.
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