It’s not so easy anymore, a few beers won’t topple me. Twelve hours will mend me. I am boxing a balloon, humping a leg—

A tide of blood, miniature in compare— But an ocean no less, to the virus in there.

Needless of a judge, a contrite heart is a bird suspended on a current, shifting myriad planes without asking or telling.

I’ll give you what I got, I can part with it all. I have gifts— A silk tongue,

I know people see him and think, “Gee, that’s crazy.” Which makes it embarrassing to see him

This day, there is no ONE to beat your fist… No party, no tyrant, not even a faction—

Think you’re doing something? Thing you’ve got some power? You can walk on coals, swallow poison and live, but who is at the helm

Hell came through on battered wings, and thought to ask just one last thing. That If I could,

It’s good here decapitate me here this moment perfect astounding unknowing faith in God not necessary

(1) Under an open window I gaze out until the wonder is gon… Having run out of questions I fal… but perk up when a stray cat appea…

Curling black from crematorium sta… tell me again the hoax of the soul… The cowl paces, pretends to be faceless, swinging silver

When the world wasn’t burning I felt optimistic that one day I could come home

It can get worse, there are hell realms. I’m misquoting someone but, I’ve heard it said:

Blameless is the working man Who can tell him, ‘put aside your drink!’ And what do I do but lay pavers?