ABOUT HEADPHONES

the day has not been roses
&

it is hard 

to think about 

what it was like before
the corruption & misfires & spiders

& god is in the headphones
if anywhere

under asbestos sky 

on a sheetrock hill
flossing with a bass string

DULL ELECTRIC IN THE MORNING STREAK

theres doubt
dull electric
in the morning streak
of pencil lead cloud

i draw storms with it

in the comfy chair afternoon

thunderheads out the dog whistles

blown in dark opportunity

on the corruption stage

theres relief
approaching peace
in the pastel smear
of industry dusk

a bittersweet goodbye

projected on the painted sky

or pollution blood

& redacted black

phoning the headlines in