Apps: 12.22.13


Three days before Christmas, its
unusually warm, the simple fact
of a solid grey sky redeems what
torturous human complexities I
have no way out of— where the
sky begins is where we end, on
the ground where gutters fit, I
heave my own brain into the sky—


The human mind is
not a parking lot
being rained upon
on a dreary Sunday
morning, its wont
(the mind) to issue,
from positions of
singularity into multiplicity
(even) literal knives to
make their own incisions,
mountains/valleys kill
differently, worthiness/humanity—