Day Break

With respect to penmanship and in regards to postage.


Some men climb from underneath
Imaginary mile by imaginary mile.
One imaginary step after another.
One brick by two bricks.


This is terrible… I remember thinking.
Two in one day? In one hour?
This is terrible.
I carry it with me every day.


We climb
Who knew the top could be so lonely?
And who is going to know?
That’s right.


Violet delights
Independence Day weather.
Why are you so difficult?
Just like you could let your roots get tied up in knots
And they rot.


I run imaginary miles on imaginary roads. You’ve been on the receiving end of this once before. I let you see it. I don’t feel bad about it. I try my hand at writing things sometimes. That might be some sort of a pun. Hands and writing. These are just my thoughts.


With respect to penmanship and in regards to postage.


Here we go again, same old shit again.


Some of them bind to sword and sheath.
Imaginary trial by imaginary trial.
One imaginary step after a brother.
One kick by two kicks.


This is absolute… I remember writing.
To end one day with one flower.
This is absolute.
I drag it with me every pace.


We’re blind.
Who knew the top would be so bony?
And who is going to show?
That’s wrong.


Heliotrope delights.
July 4th weather.
Why am I so difficult?
Just like you could get your roots tied up with shots.
And they are not.




I run imaginary miles on imaginary roads. A book no one reads. A movie no one watches. A candle no one lights. A story no one tells. A sad joke. You never wanted us to succeed at anything. You selfish fucks are thirsty for glory. Splendor. Grandeur. Brilliance. Laurels. Whatever.


You preach family and brotherhood but wouldn’t know what to do with it if you fell face first into it.


With respect to penmanship and in regards to the postage. The 35 cents.


The sum of them find word and wreath.
Imaginary dial by imaginary dial.
One imaginary step after a father.
One tick by two ticks.


This is hollow… I remember saying.
To end one’s day with one wilt and one blossom.
This is hollow.
I respond to it in this fashion.


We mind.
Who blew the stop so boldly?
And who is going too slow?
That’s left to personal judgment.


Lavender delights.
This cenotaph weather.
What is so difficult?
Just like you could feel your roots get tied up in knots.
And there they rot.
Whereas I embraced it,
You swore it off.


As it stands, the apple has not fallen far. As it sits, a family will gather, the sum equal to its whole. As it lays, a Mother smiles and sighs at the same time. As it sleeps, a Brother will stir once, but only once in safety. As it stands, a Father recognizes where the apple has fallen.


One day maybe I’ll be able to break the richest bread and drink the finest wine. But I’m sorry I’m so vague. So vague. So vague. So vague. So vague.


Maybe I’ll be able to watch another train go by in the passenger seat. Maybe I’ll be able to spend the night there. Maybe I could play on that floor again. Just one more night where I could sit by the framed photographs of aviation. Another Thanksgiving where we could just stand still.


The saga continues.