The heart slaps along

The heart slaps along
I don’t want to smoke
and I sneak away
to coffee shops
and think about smoking
Now I have the time
to pay attention to the names
of musicians
both living and dead
I know a great writer
but you don’t
her greatness is planted
in not knowing, not
snow buried, re:
whites, grays, haze
Trieved to a
Saint slobbering Bernard
Oh, rolling tongue
thick fatigue
lolling numb
“I’s” and “Me’s”
My eyes glaze, I lick my lips
and dream of your apocalypse
I called it names to which it spat
‘til desperation made me scream
I know not, love, for what you dream
we want to see beauty
and we’re the same
with different words
so I choose carefully
I tried drinking
Like Hemingway
But the loneliness was unbearable
Teddy bear
picking seam
removing fluff
piling up
Teddy there
And I want to find words that aren’t in a book
And I feel too much pain will allow me to look
And
I write them out
So plainly
Too quickly
The pianist’s fingers bleed
for the raised voice
recognition
of barfly’s and
passersby
Follows
Gravity
Mixed
Literal
I tried drinking
Like Hemingway
But the loneliness was unbearable
A train not even crashing
No explosion
Just quietly retiring
Off the tracks
And if you let yourself go
you’ll bloom in a shimmering galaxy
of golden hair
And I keep pressing down
And I think of a pianist
And I want to make music
And I hate the things my fingers leave
And I make noise
And the pianist
Presses
Amazing Grace
The sky is mottled with pregnant clouds
Contractions of wind huff harder and harder
Trees protest throwing down leaves
And still I stay outside
I’m 35
We know each other’s vices
We’re driving to the deserts of the Midwest
We’ll see strip malls
gas stations
fast food
On our way to beauty
And now I’m closing
my eyes
and breathing in the pillow
she
leaned on
You, the conjuring of muses
Baring a bounty of abuses
Betraying only grace
And I can’t look away
Bow rips
Sheep guts scream
Bow rips
Audience roars
Wearing masks
Hiding flasks
No more smiles
Wandering aisles
Pain, pangs, sharp, dull. Internal buzzing, humming, thumping, drumming. Moon lathers, shaving, slivering, chiseling, waning. Time
To give one thing for another.
To create in the mind a picture of what could be.
To act with another in harmony.
Let it be
in the silent scream
of a shooting star.
The echoes of rejoicing muted by the island’s sands. Drowned by waves of realization that we are sound itself reverberating off of infinity’s pretzel-ed pipe.
The castles moved straight,
the horses made hooks
as the black and white shapes met their fate.
I have a hot temper
I am confident in changing a tire
I tremble when jumping a car battery
Forever
is the theory
of love
applied science need
not apply