round-trip and flat-lining

Chicago kills me.

You heard my stories about how I got myself expelled
from the temple, but
you might not know my motivation for doing so.

Cosmo lives in Indiana now, about four hours away -
in Blomington.

A small college town in the middle of the corn fields. . .
ummm- - - I mean the Heartland . . .

I've never been there, but from what I hear it's a nice place. . .
for far more than just visiting- - - s'pose they got their
fair share of corvus birds flocking there, too, to take off and land, spawning new rookeries alongside modern painting trends that just refuse to die. . .




*-*

Before I said maybe the words flow more easily later
and now they do, so here's what I have to say: Listen
to the rumble in the soles of your feet as you tip toe
across this place we call, collectively, Earth.

When you wonder, like I am doing,
know that you are drawing
maps the gods traced onto your soul,
routed through your DNA,
that part of you that whispers,
drooling on your sweaty bed sheets
tangled into knotted rings
that vibrate tiny fibrous hairs
behind your eyes, sweet cauliflower head.

Neurotic Dreamer

The whirling does not belong to you, to me or to us,
a voice that pushing air communicates no less 

than through your hands, your feet, your pitter pat
across the marbled floors, hardwood, tiled or pine
on eggshells, sea foam,  or dancing in your linens,
sushi, croissants, asphaltum burning coals
that worry you with wringing hands
with wringing hands, wringing hands that

etch small grooves into copper wires, 

entrenched and buried
in dark shadowy valleys of your brain, 

florets of broccoli twirling all around, entwined,
entwined with this, with this, this fragile

place our wobbling, listing planet. . .

to be continued . . .

J.A.K.



*-*

p.s. > I spent the last few hours with The Little One.

(say cheese! * photos coming soon)