Nervous Hands

Will I have landed

By the time you turn your phone

Back onto silent?

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Non-Poets: Solidarity Among

Your monologues are exhausting 
And you'll never publish anything
Keep thinking you'll come back to that thesis
Oh Jesus what's the point

I think there is one
It has the aesthetic, the tone 
But as soon as we sit down at this desk:
Poof

Slow down and focus on beauty
L'Orfeo, Monteverdi 

Haven't opened the old file yet
Haven't seen how those paraphraphs been sitting

Stop holding your breath
It's impressing no one and not helping

Just let fly your daily obsession.
The Evernote subscription. Bolts and D-Ring organization

All that shit in the garage and the door that needs hanging

Damn Early

No conversation, waiting for the lazy bed to eject
Been nothing but a holding cell
A breakfast of peanuts and fig cookies awaits
Skip the coffee this morning, there’s an
Energy thing in the car and a soda on the counter
The trick is getting past the dogs

But it’s still dark and I’m not even in socks
They’ll know not to bother

Think, Therefore, Etc.

How exactly can you define this feeling? Why would you bother?

Ordinarily people don’t question the examined life, even though that’s the point…

Fading into the background is a figure who knows better. In the air is a sense of limited patience, urgent interest, vivid experience.

Please–stop fading and start advising.

We can’t mess with time without you.

Of course, we’re not holding our end of the bargain, somehow.

Stay shamefaced a moment as I search the archives…

Getting Back to the Id

Under the porch is a bunch of junk you’ve a few times meant to pick up but haven’t even gotten to the point of saying as much

And gravel whose crunch hasn’t yet met the muddle of mud

I think a fresh perspective at this point would mean you chose to stand still, breathe deep, and say out loud: Who would resent me for this?

Obviously those who took it all more seriously than me

I meant that ambiguously

Passing the Predicate

What stopped the conversation was a feeling of falling passive, but not silent:

Everything happening to someone–or, worse–something, else. Anyone clear on what was being talked about?

In a general sense

Now they charge a chunk of your soul per word

The slow lurch replaced by a surge

Flickering flourescents on a pale table

And you with the spilled coffee