WORLD WAS BUSTED WHEN I GOT HERE

i pull my boots on
& walk on down the hall . . .

i go gardenside

for lawn

for air

for the abyss above

& the girth below

i take a folding knife
to feel useful 

to feel prepared

its titivating

its diy smoke & mirrors
& a poor shadow of our ancestors

can-do 

tinder-box 

flint & steel

rich soil psyche 

i breath cbd fog

everything hurts
i am out to pasture

in a hanging-in-there lawn chair

fox at my feet
food questions in his eyes

photo - fox & chair from the Dagenham Archive

MORE GARDEN

  from 
  my
  lawn chair
  i watch
may blooms tumble-fall 
like 
theres a magnet
in
the
ground
   
  out here
  somethings are not a colour at all 
  like
  the
pollution stain 
of
horizon rain - an undercoat
smudged
down
like
with a thumb

 

from orneveien.org