Long ago, I found a vacant field
A home, dilapidated, on the fiction of a crumbling foundation
Giving meager thought to if the imagery appealed
To any message I beheld
I guess avidity prevailed
And so I labored all the while just creating for the sake of some creation

Sowing seeds of negligent regard
And patching up the windows with an origami curtain of obsession
Watching as the pillars played politely in the yard
I made a frame of brittle board
For all the days that I ignored
And set it up like it’s a card so I could say that I possess my own possession

Laboring, I rarely wondered why
The walls were wearing jackets made of gossamer and old alliteration
Rested on the windowsill with such a heavy sigh
As if too weary just to say
“It’s still the first of yesterday
And every step is imitating all the ones I only took through imitation”

Walking, finally, far enough afield
Where shores, however reaching, never spoke of inhibition
I saw, not far behind me, like a scab I poorly peeled
No single signal that compelled
But rather reasons rarely quelled
As, in response, am I omitting all the parts I had to pare so I could keep what I omit from my omissions


Arbitrary landscapes in a flutter ’round the cellar
Are they moving interstellar
Being fortune and the teller
Not the sold and not the seller of the all consuming clutter

Piling in monuments of other minor moments
Where we measure in components
Being growth and how we’ve grown it
Into fountains full of foment fit to fade like just another

Trivial pursuit that we discover, like an idol,
Of a moon, and we the tidal
Wave we soon would see a bridle
Like a sun now suicidal with a mask of cloudy cover

Statuary still and here we shudder all the while
Putting factures into tile
Like a pre-existing style
Of the sad and how we smile when we see that we’re the cut and we’re the cutter