like a bashed head
a dizzyness failing to sing
when she rings in the wrong moment
fills my heart with the sweats
can not fathom how to smile
head does not hurt it
swells like a pomegranate
and from the height of
the building, it falls
and breaks
on the solid ground
bling fling
pearls scattered across marble
blood has half set and streaked
by flying small projectiles
spreading trails pointing
at the intrusion
after the fight she mopped up
the parts of him left scattered
in violent repose
a piece of him
hung up and suspended over high hopes
scars deep felt
yesterday a memory was being cultured in a jar
and feelings gathered around the bonfire
left and right they sing in hallways
the beer flows in rivers of lost sensibility
drawing away the years of fortitude
solemnity and grievance
dropped at the bus stop
the man holds gates open and
she smiles as a pancake summer
light drowns little words
in distance
her tricks that got your attention
voices of songs long dead that
invades, that foists itself
over anterior speculations
assumptions we guessed about
unspoken and reserved tables
nobody arrives to
the curtain draws closed but
the actors already collapsed
sitting by himself on the bus
riding between states of journey
laws pickled by grape
held underwater and signs of life
feeling less necessary than before
when we had to sell the idea
it seemed so important to us all.