hey:

women and men,
synonyms for time his come,
pack all the things you think you own,
you now live with the ones
amongst the ones
as the ones you
killed with your direct glance
your half-opened eyes.
pursed lips and mind full of sorrow.
BACK OFF the space between you screamed
it's not your job to create a screen.
and still haven't finished half the book.
each time my eyes grow tired
as worn and weary as the ears of corn still being grown
and the kids whose feet ache and groan.
said, redemption, and jumped on in,
folks with kids and men with sin.
there's no contracts
a lack of seeming rules
but in it's place harsh suggestions made
to make grown-ups shiver with what they think they know
with what you think you own
with all the sparrow's songs
shirts on piano benches
following cars to outer locations
spitting on ladders to higher places
crawling under said ladders
just to disprove superstition
super dishing out the dinner
mother made for everyone
yet you refuse your bowl of soup
too good for it
to low to stoop.




bleh.