World Tour
I see my own back from
40,000 km,
still broad abroad.
Is it yesterday, tomorrow?
How (oh my) long my hair is;
how the curls are frayed from too many ponytails
and the grey is setting with the moonrise
(Deduction: it must be yesterday).
Will I be one to grow it until it recedes
from my temples? My hair, and the moon
these days, wanes. These days are hills, mostly not.
Where’s my Delilah, my fire?
I’m done ripping my hair out for kindling.
I don’t trust myself,
with scissor or woman or flame.
I am a runner, they say.
Not really, though. I don’t
really believe that. Though, I don’t know
what I believe, really. But really, I believe really
too much. Need more less real, more dreams.
But see, that’s where Choose Your Own Adventure books
really fucked me over. I start from the endendend!
“Oh, but without melancholy I would have no muse.
No use for writing at 4 in the morning.”
And this is where I thank god for trappist monks
and their high alcohol content beer.
Thank you god
for proofing my beer.
Maybe you could up the percentage on my last one?
Maybe you could answer any of my fucking prayers?
Oop, sorry.
Too far?
Space for your response: _________________________
Daily the distance of what could be and what is broadens ,
like the vacuum from a missed train,
like all mailed and lost cardboard boxes,
like the foggy car windows on a hill at night,
like drinking my over-sweetened, still steeping Sleepy Time tea,
(like simile).
Like, like, like, like, like, like, like
(Seven ‘likes,’ like twelve goodbyes).
Like plans to order pizza but you’re too depressed to try to order in french.
Like passing out by the heater when you should be doing taxes.
Like reading old emails and poems and crying on the floor.
Like drinking your last beer and wishing you had vodka and pineapple juice.
Like touring around the world and ending up where you started but not where you’re left.
*live reading*
“Underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore, underscore!” – my favorite part of the live read.