forest clings to space and time wishes it was nothing else but soulful. The things we wished on are crashing. They are splitting wide with promises. Vague visions of future pedestals we stand on. These pedestals are here to be held and remembered in the deepest of sorrows and stronger men than us pull them apart while we close our eyes with glee. A stage never stays. Everything fades. Each segment tucked away in a cavity so deep and only brought to light by relation. We hold specks. Tiny specks. We blow them into the swirling air. We breathe the air. What we were becomes what we are. What we are becomes what we were and we blow specks again. Others breathe and what they are becomes what we were. Older generations driest of bones become cinders to fuel youthful fantasies that spring to the highest of towers and fall to the depths. The core heats and puffs. Smoldering. Mother scoops her hand into the bowl and sprinkles the dust on the expanse of saplings. They cough, then sprout suddenly. They bloom and shrink once again. Shuttles pulse back and forth with expansive motives. They hang themselves with work. They literally die. They plummet. They crash. We hold them between our index and thumb. We pin them to boards. We label and judge them. The winners become the blue ribbons we yearn for. We fall short. We crash. What we wished for made us what we have become.

The view reaches and reaches
it claws.
it scratches.
Every day it gets it,

but only after work.

It rests.
It repeats,

but only after work.

I work -- sort of.
I rest -- sometimes.
I repeat -- only mistakes.

I crest and fall and rise and puff.
I want and want and want

and and and and and
and and and and and

Complete what I must And
do what I [think I] can,

but only after work.

Who am I kidding?
Work is work and try is just try
and doing is what I should be doing
and thinking and producing
and and and.

Endurance and Clenching Jaws

Feeling held -- lips abound
parting precipices giving nothing

awkward

The like is seen, but can't find it's way
beneath the sheen coating
Partly because the nervousness,
but otherwise the mind unstirred

knowing what
thinking that
killing thus

A shaky departure holding on
to what is and what was and what may and what will
and what was undone
fulfilled.

The meeting complete.
The apartment unkempt.
Live in this place.

You will see.

Oh you will see.

The better begins one step at a time.
The better. The better.
Always better.

Conceived from rich and brought down in taste
I lived in the hills. I lived in the hills.
This waste is now me.
Me only me.

Condensed. Subside. Subsidize my mind.
I bid you farewell.
Hope to see you again.

Stars grace the ground and arose a rose on arm.
Goodbye time unspent.
Hello tomorrow -- says bottle hello.
Uptown away.
Fancy away.
Veneer.
Sheer veneer.
I see through you.
I see through you today.

Hmm

I posted a new poem, but I want to begin writing dialogue. For dialogue I need some genius premise which over the past 4 years I have been unable to grasp. If I sit down intending to brainstorm and decide my mind goes blank. So: if anyone reads this -- give me a sample premise and I will practice dialogue using said premise. Godspeed.

GO!

a shapely concrete discovery

controlled chaos and The Collapse
financing; bounded; commandeering; collecting
life colored corpses
vessels filled and filling
me, mine, and yours
reach into pockets deep
flow kindly into the mouth of the desperate
seek the mundane
mounds stacked
flashy, dangling
I discovered the fantasy
time travel works in one direction
forward
but backwards to make truth revealed
the whole Truth
Jean Luc -- please -- warp speed
what will be will be, so
please bring me to what will be.

Needing.

Inspiration. Badly.

Same place. New time.

I flew in to Phoenix last night expecting something similar to a heroes arrival. Friend splashing waves of missed affection at my feet and reminiscing of times not shared together. Instead, I find myself with a lack of words. No positive criticism and no hope for a brighter tomorrow. No future goals set in place and no plans to break free of my monotony. Where do I go from here? How does my productivity increase and how do the synapses in my brain begin to catch some lightning? What do I take from here? This all seems so familiar, but vicarious. I'm sharing in this wasteland I left and breathing in the stale desert heat that I feel beating down on my neck. It's not as bad as I remember it, but it sure doesn't feel like home.