Saturday, September 24, 2016


Coffee, at the computer, slightly 
high, messy desk, prepared for
the end.

"Jar of Flies", continuity of mood,
smoke rising, words emerge, why
is not a good question.

Ready to slip-slide through the
apocalypse if it happens soon,
bored with the election, Broncos
tomorrow, as if it's the same as 
it ever was.

Bleached out by life, dark clothes
to point out what form is left 
standing, all that effort not for
nothing, a child will still smile at me.

Conspiracy is interesting, so many 
people, might as well be some, all
talking at once, screaming on the
internet, keeps 'em busy.

If these words can arise, how can
the universe not be teeming with life?
It wasn't the world that was flat,
it was your head...
....same as it ever was.


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