On this slow and grueling Tuesday evening my body seeks to lay in the soft heap that exists in the bedroom I have created in my head which is filled with foam like material that gives to my weight just enough to make me feel like I have no mass but still have a shape.
-DBL
* * * * *
Shoreline
Every time I open
my jaw I can hear it rip from its joint
You know when you
are sitting in the grass
Mind wondering
Hands that yet to
go idle
Ripping moist green
grass
As you mindlessly
listen to your lover’s story
That feeling
That rip
That sound
That’s it
I open and close my
mouth wanting to hear the noise
Feel the discomfort
Maybe it’s just to
convince myself that
that is what it sounds like
Or it’s just that I
still don’t believe that my jaw is doing that awful sound
Well eventually I
forget cuz the dull pain at my temple starts to wander in
Maybe it’s the
opening and closing of my mouth that has allowed the pain to return
or most likely it’s
the five blows to my head in the last month
Hmmm but one wasn’t
even to my temple
Ok to be honest
three to the temple
One to the cheek
and another
flashing one to the right side of the back of my skull
Elementary says the
one to the back of my head would be the one to worry about
Strange
That one was the
least of my troubles
Some say life can hand you a beating
But when that
beating manifests itself to multiple beatings
That’s just a joke
high tailored for irony only seen around these parts
Much jokes have
meaning so what is the meaning of this one
What does it mean
that the struggle did not end with me getting the worst of it
But feeling it
Sunken in the buff
at the edge of the water
Sunglasses glaring
this magnificent sight back whence it came from
Hat dipped low
Face trying to find
refuge from this glorious sun
I sulk
Not in pain
Not in depression
Not in anger
But in existence
I play back the new
visuals I have learned
The new stories to lament
This edge of earth
I have built a humble home for this
moment of near life
…
I’ve lost my train
of thought and all I can hear is that
creaking
ripping sound
Sometimes the body
is a glitch of useful actions
coagulating to a
gunk of festering reactions
I have a perfect
seat for this momentous view
The grey clouds
that I have been enjoying
part
Orange glow
reflected below
as this was above
the dawning sky
A perfect audience
at an event not so extraordinary
This sand so moist
and willing
A seat for my ass
My head speaking in
one-line stories
I sink in to this
mystery that I think exists and I think I am attempting
To solve
Water in my boots
darken the shadow that already is draped on my shoulder
These cold knees
ache only in this contest
I am only a net
filled with lost shoes and thrown away wigs
As I float away
I remembered that I
left
a black pen in the
pants that are in the dryer
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